Simple Clues
by seditionary
Summary: Morgan & Reid are sent to New Orleans to track down a killer. Their personal relationship is just beginning. Will the case bring them together--or tear them apart? Mature content. Last chapter now posted!
1. Coffee

**A/N: Hi, I'm new to this fandom although I have loved the show for years. I just wanted to try my hand at writing for this pairing. PLEASE review and let me know if I got it right or not, all comments welcome! It is slash, but not too heavy. If I were to continue it, it would definitely take a sexier turn....thanks for reading!**

***

"Reid...let's go get a cup of coffee," Derek Morgan said, his rich voice creating more of a command than a request. He slung his bag full of case files over his shoulder and stared impatiently at his co-worker and friend.

"N-no thanks, I need to get home." Spencer Reid felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

"Come on, pretty boy...don't be like this. We need to talk. I don't like how we left things last night."

Reid refused to meet his gaze, awkwardly fumbling with his car keys instead. "We left things _fine_. Everything's fine. I really need to go. I'll see you tomorrow," he said flatly and he started to head out.

"Wait!" Derek strode after the slender young man and grabbed his upper arm none too gently. "We're _going _to talk. As far as I'm concerned, it might as well be now. So, unless you want to take a chance on someone overhearing, I'd suggest we _go get a cup of _COFFEE. Make sense?"

For the first time, Spencer met Morgan's dark eyes. He dropped his gaze to the floor, but nodded.

"Fine. Where?"

"Java Hut. Come on, I'll drive."

"NO! I mean...I'll meet you there."

Morgan glared in aggravation and held up a warning finger. "You better. Or I'll be on your doorstep so fast--"

"I'll be there, I'll be there! Let's go."

Reid followed the huskier man out the door and they went to their respective cars. A few minutes later, they met at the coffee house. They each made their order at the counter, and with drinks in hand, found a relatively isolated table. They both sat uncomfortably silent for several moments. Finally, Morgan spoke.

"Last night wasn't any big deal, you know."

Reid shifted self-consciously in his chair and didn't respond, but Morgan caught the condescending roll of his eyes.

"You'd had a lot to drink, and so did I. It's not so surprising. Hell, if we were in college, we'd of--"

"We're NOT in college. We're grown men, and we...." Reid stopped himself from vocalizing the shameful event of the night before.

"We made out a little." Morgan wasn't one to skirt around an issue. He watched with some amusement as Reid's cheeks took on a red hue. "Come on, Reid--hasn't anything like that ever happened to you before?"

"NO!! Absolutely not...." asserted the skinny young man defiantly.

"Really. Well, don't tell me you've never _thought_ about it?"

"NO."

"Never? Really. Even as a teenager? Never had a passing thought about a teacher, a rock star...a friend?"

_"NO."_

Morgan smiled indulgently and shook his head. "Well, you must be one hard-core testosterone-driven son of a bitch then, huh?" he teased. Reid sighed and sipped his coffee, trying not to rise to the bait.

"You must be a regular pussy-loving, titty-lickin' _stud, _am I right?"

"Will you please stop it?" Reid asked quietly.

"You've had me fooled! I bet you've got a secret life as a big time player, and I mean _PLAY_-ah, don't ya, pretty boy?"

"I need to go...."

Morgan clamped a big hand down on a thin wrist. "If I sound surprised, it's because--you sure didn't _act _like it last night."

"I was drunk."

"Ok. I understand that. But can you honestly look me in the eye and say...you didn't like it? Just a little?"

"Look, Morgan, I only came here because I thought we could smooth over...an awkward moment between us. Something that happened because of, uh, booze and, well, _emotion..._I was upset. You tried to make me feel better, and...it just happened. It didn't mean anything, and it'll never happen again, and I wish you would just, you know, _drop_ it. Just...drop it."

Derek sighed and stared at his friend until he finally raised his eyes and looked at him. Then the handsome profiler spoke with quiet heat.

"Spencer...for a damn genius, you sure do have a problem interpreting a set of simple clues sitting right out in plain sight. All right. I _will _drop it. But I'm not saying that I won't pick it up again. Later, when you're ready. Understand?"

"You completely misunderstood me last night, Derek. I'm sorry...I'm sorry I gave you the wrong idea."

Morgan stood up and started to leave, then thought better of it. He stepped back to Reid's side, leaned down and spoke into his ear with controlled passion.

"There was _nothin' _wrong with what we did last night. _Nothin'_. One day I hope you'll see that. 'Cause we're wasting a lot of time, and in our business, time is a luxury we just don't have." He straightened up and pulled his car keys out of his pocket. When he spoke again, it was in his normal light-hearted tone.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Think about what I said. And--if you want to talk about it some more, I'm here. Anytime. Ok?"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Morgan. Good night." Reid continued to studiously examine his coffee cup.

Morgan shook his head. "Good night, pretty boy. Ball's in your court." With that, the tall profiler strode off, leaving Reid to diligently rationalize away all the difficult notions his co-worker had strewn around in his excessively orderly mind.


	2. Lifeline

**A/N: So, decided to continue. This chapter contains a bit more sexy stuff. Please review!**

Reid woke up feeling groggy and sluggish. He glared resentfully at the alarm clock as a jarring call to rise stabbed his ears, and he grabbed it as he sat up and viciously punched the "off" button, returning the room to blessed silence. He ran a hand through his long, tousled hair and tried to remember what day it was.

Thursday. Good. Assuming nothing new had come up overnight, he might be able to catch up on his case notes, even answer a few emails without interruption. There was no question that he needed a little quiet time behind his desk and in front of his computer. It had been a while since he'd had a chance to take care of paperwork.

Reid stood up and trudged to the bathroom to get ready for the day, mechanically going through his morning routine of showering, shaving and brushing his teeth. He told himself that his glum outlook and lack of energy were probably due to his untreated allergies plaguing him again, and he decided he would give his doctor a call sometime soon. Wearing a towel draped around his waist, he rinsed his mouth, wiped away a coating of steam from the mirror, and took a final assessment of his appearance before getting dressed.

Not good, not good at all. He'd stayed up much too late the night before--an old bad habit he was again allowing himself to slip into--and the sleep deficit was beginning to show in the dark circles under his reddened eyes and the lack of color in his face. He hadn't been eating properly either. It was too easy to forget and go without food for hours and hours, only to find himself ravenous at two o'clock in the morning, a time when he was left with few choices other than one of three varieties of pizza--delivered (expensive), frozen (ice-encrusted), and/or leftover (cardboard aftertaste).

Top it all off with the lingering effects of getting drunk the other night, and one was left with a skinny insomniac profiler who looked as if he were still in the throes of drug withdrawal.

Which he was _not._ He'd been clean for two years. Two years...it was coming up on the anniversary. He'd unhealthily been dwelling on it lately, and going out for a drink with Derek had seemed like a good idea at the time. Derek was such a sure, witty, outgoing person, and usually just being with him away from work took Reid's mind off his troubles.

But, that night...that night, depression had washed over him so deeply he felt as if it would cut off his air and choke him to death. That night, Morgan became a lifeline for him. The booze had softened him up to the point that he found himself sitting on the couch at his apartment, clinging to his friend's muscular body as he was crushed in a wonderful embrace, on the verge of helpless, embarrassing sobs.

He had felt strong arms holding him tightly, fingers combing comfortingly through his hair as gentle kindnesses were murmured into his ear--"It's ok, kid, everything's all right," and "listen to me, pretty boy, I'm here for you, you know that, right?" and "Spencer--things will look better in the morning, trust me." Hearing the words said with such confidence almost made him believe them, and he had looked up at Morgan, ready to tell him "I _do_ trust you," but instead he had reached up and pressed his lips against Derek's, had closed his eyes and disappeared into the quickly returned kiss, had melted against the warmth and comfort of the man he thought he knew so well....

And...it had gone on for a while. He had eagerly parted his lips to let Derek's tongue enter and met it with his own, tasting him, their mouths sliding together in an electric pulsing. He had pulled himself closer, almost onto his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck as he sought more contact, more of that warmth, more of that _strength._

Morgan's hands had traveled soothingly over his back, then to his chest. One hand slipped under his shirt and he felt fingertips gently brush a nipple on their way down to his belly, and he'd moaned; the sound of his own disembodied voice had brought him back. His eyes had flown open and he'd jerked away, scrambling to his feet in self-disgust and embarrassment only to realize that the outline of his erection was clearly visible, straining against the front of his trousers.

"Wh-what're you doing?" he'd gasped accusingly as he pulled his shirt down as low as possible. His mouth didn't seem to sync up to his brain and he wondered if he was slurring his words.

"Me? Hey, pretty boy, you started it!"

"No! No, I-I'd never--"

Morgan had stood up and taken Reid's face in his hands, forcing him to look him in the eye.

"Look. We've both had a bit to drink, so let's just calm down, ok? We can watch some TV, chill out...everything's ok, you're fine, I'm fine, we're fine."

"No, you n-need to leave! Please, Derek...please, I need for you to leave..."

"Now, don't go and freak out on me, ok Reid? Don't you freak out on me!"

"I'm not! It's just that, it's just that--I want to go to bed, I need to sleep.... Please--just _go." _

Morgan had stared appraisingly at him, taking in the beautiful but aggrieved eyes, the defensive posture and the rapid breathing. He was tempted to force him into another deep kiss, force him to admit what he was feeling, but he knew that if he did, he would regret it. Reid wasn't a child, but he _was_ vulnerable, and he needed someone to trust tonight. And he could trust Morgan. Always.

"I don't want to leave you alone when you're having such a bad time of it," he'd finally said in a firm, quiet voice.

"I'm ok."

"You say that, but--"

"No, really, I'm _ok. _I'm just exhausted, I'm going to bed."

"You're sure? You're not going to..."

"To what?"

"I don't know. Do something stupid?"

"Like what? Ohhh...you mean, kill myself?" Reid gave a rueful laugh. "No, Morgan, I'm not that badly off. I'm just going to bed. So, go home, go home and don't worry about me."

"I _am_ going to worry about you... But, all right. I'll go. If you promise me one thing."

"What?"

"That if things get rough--you'll call someone. Don't drink more, just call me, call JJ, or Garcia, or _someone. _Do you understand?"

Reid nodded. "Yes, yes, now go." He made a dismissive wave in the direction of the front door.

"Ok. But, Reid..."

"Now what?"

"This thing that happened between us. We should--"

"I'm going to bed, you can see yourself out, right? Make sure the front door's locked." Reid began walking only slightly unsteadily toward his bedroom.

"We should talk about this!" Morgan had called in frustration.

"Goodnight! See you tomorrow!" was all he'd heard before a door clicked shut.

***

Reid had turned that night's events over and over in his mind, trying to excuse himself, trying to make it Morgan's fault, but it was a futile effort. He hadn't been _that_ drunk. He had been in control of his actions, and it had been he who had initiated the kiss, there was no getting around it. So, what did it mean?

Was it a natural human response to external stimuli? A warm, comforting body plus internal turmoil and disquiet equal an expression of gratitude and appreciation?

And...desire?

Or, was it something more insidious? Had Morgan tapped into his vulnerability, lulled him into a false sense of security as he cradled him in his arms, and somehow cleverly played him like a cheap piano? Caused him to forget himself, to forget who was holding him, thereby getting him to make a foolish mistake and play right into his seductive hands?

Or...the more likely scenario. That he was a pathetic closet case from way back, guilty of stoically repressing his true nature for years and years until, in a moment of weakness, his attraction to Morgan overwhelmed him to the point he could no longer keep the lid on his lustful needs?

His dark musings were cut short when he heard a faint and muffled ring tone coming from his clothes hamper. Reid's heart sank; surely he hadn't... But, of course he had. He hastily opened the lid and pulled out the dirty slacks he'd thrown in there the night before; his cell phone was busily vibrating and demanding his attention with a cellular rendition of some hip-hop ditty that Morgan had sneakily downloaded and set as his default ring. Reid looked at the screen, dreading that he would see would be--and it was. Hotch.

For the third time.

Reluctantly, he pushed the "talk" button and answered "Good morning, Reid here," as professionally as a man clad only in a bath towel possibly could.

"Where have you been?"

"Uh...right here at home, actually. I'm sorry, I misplaced my phone and the ringer was turned down and--"

"Never mind. Get down here immediately. We have a new case and I'm not going over it twice."

"Of course, I'll be there ASAP."

The phone went silent and Reid stared at it blankly for a moment. Just then, his doorbell rang and he looked for his bath robe, but it wasn't in its usual place on the hook. Grasping the towel securely with one hand, he strode quickly to the front door and peered through the peep-hole. Standing on the other side was Derek Morgan, a serious expression on his handsome face. Blushing as he glanced down at himself, Reid took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Hi."

_"Hi? _What the hell's the matter with you? Hotch's been calling you since six thirty! Look at you, you're not even dressed!"

"I know, I didn't sleep very well last night and--"

"Do not waste time, put your clothes on, we have to go."

"What's going on?" Reid asked as he hastily headed back to his bedroom.

"I'll tell you on the way," Morgan replied, his irritation fading as he watched the towel-covered bottom and long slim bare legs retreating to the other room. His frown relaxed into a fleeting smile of appreciation, but then he thought of how awkward things had been between them all the day before, how Reid had refused to meet his eyes during the morning meeting, even going so far as to actively avoid him all afternoon. And, of how deeply in denial Spencer had been when they talked over coffee last evening.

It was that denial that irritated him. Vindictively, he considered visiting Reid in his bedroom in order to inflict a little sexy torment on him--a wolf whistle, perhaps, or maybe a lascivious "mmm-mm, oh baby!"--but, as if reading Morgan's mind, the bedroom door was shut with an emphatic slam, and he sat himself down on the couch instead, taking the opportunity to yawn and stretch as he contemplated the situation.

Morgan could understand Reid being upset and confused, could even understand him regretting the--in his opinion, harmless--indiscretion. It wasn't surprising for a man to feel unsure and embarrassed about an "inappropriate" attraction. But to so flatly reject the fact that there had_ been _an attraction, a spark of passion and sexual chemistry between them--that was hard to take. Especially since there were so many times when... Morgan sighed tiredly. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe there really were no clues, no hints over the years as to Reid's true feelings toward him. Maybe he was misreading him, just as Reid had said.

But there was no question about it--Reid had been the one to kiss him first, and he didn't think for a minute that alcohol was the sole reason. The kid had been too determined, too in control to dismiss his behavior as the unrestrained actions of a sloppy drunk, and his responses to Morgan's attentions had been too eager for him to believe he was naively unaware of what was happening in his own mind and body. Morgan heard the bedroom doorknob turn and he brushed aside his resentment.

Dressed in his usual work clothes, Reid gave Morgan a sheepish grimace.

"Don't say it, I know--I screwed up about the cell phone. I didn't go to bed until late, and I just didn't get things together for in the morning the way I usually do."

"Well, I'm sure Hotch will have a few things to say about it. But, never mind for now, let's get going."

The two men headed out and arrived at headquarters in record time.

***


	3. The Case

The ride over to the BAU was quiet and awkward. Morgan glanced at Reid from time to time, trying to read his thoughts. He couldn't understand him. How was it that someone so smart could be so… so damn _dense?_ He wished he could break through Reid's finely honed defenses and help him accept himself, but he knew no one could do that until Reid was ready.

And--he had to be honest. Any encouragement he might offer would be unforgivably self-serving. He wanted Reid--had for a long time. But, it was only after the other night that the possibilities began to worm their way into his brain, and he didn't like this part of himself, the part that he knew could manipulate Reid's fears and inhibitions and use them to lead him into his bed.

He didn't want it to be that way. He didn't want to be that person. When he and Reid got together--and he knew they would, somehow, eventually--he wanted it to be joyous, special, with no fear of guilt or regret for either of them. But that couldn't happen if he pushed too hard, or if he pulled too many stunts like he did two nights ago. Taking Reid out for drinks when he was feeling the way he did that night was wrong, just wrong. He wouldn't do it again.

It wouldn't be easy, but for now--he had to be Reid's friend.

Just his friend.

***

Reid and Morgan slipped into the briefing room as casually as possible, yet they could feel four pairs of eyes on them as they took their seats. Hotch gave them each a dour look, cleared his throat and glanced down at the paper in his hand.

"Thanks for the update, JJ. Moving on--there has been a series of murders in Houston, five to date. All the victims have two things in common--they were originally from New Orleans, displaced by Katrina; and, they were all dumped in the same area with their throats cut. The bodies showed signs of being tortured."

"Why are we just now finding out about them?" Prentiss asked.

Leaving his position next to the dry erase board where he was slouching with his arms crossed, Rossi stepped forward. "The first three took place soon after the hurricane when no one down there had the time or the manpower to devote resources to what they assumed were gang-style killings."

Reid frowned. "What changed with the last two?"

"This." Rossi moved to the board and drew a symbol, a diamond shape with a line extending from each point, and two marks across each line. Inside the diamond was an "x".

"This was drawn in ashes on the last two victims' foreheads. Someone in the department remembered that one of the first three had had the same mark, it had just been disregarded in the tumult of the early days. And while the other two had been exposed to the elements for too long to know if they'd been marked, they were obviously killed in the same manner."

"A gang wouldn't bother to mark victims with ash," JJ said.

"Religious overtones?" Morgan asked.

"Something like that. The mark you made--it's similar to what's called a 'vévé'."

Everyone turned in their seats to look directly at Reid. "And what is a 'vévé'?" Prentiss asked.

"In Haitian voodoo, it's a term for a drawing, usually done in corn flour on the ground. There are several traditional ones, very complex designs, each representing a particular god. The power comes not from the finished drawing, but from the act of making the drawing. It's useless once it's completed… Ash on the victim's forehead--that suggests some sort of mystical ritual. It sounds to me as if there's more to these deaths than a simple gang war."

Hotch nodded. "I agree. So--Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi will go to Houston. Reid and Morgan to New Orleans."

Reid felt a welling up of anxiety in his throat. "Which team will you be on, Hotch?"

The stern look faltered a moment. "I'm staying here. I have some… issues to deal with." He straightened and resumed in his usual business-like manner. "I'll be available as needed, however."

Rossi turned his gaze to Reid and Morgan. "Now, remember--the sheriff's department in New Orleans is still suffering from short-staffing and disorganization, plus the current sheriff is out on leave and the acting sheriff has had little experience with this kind of situation. I want you two to start from the beginning with her and make sure that nothing's been missed.

"I have flights and room arrangements for you, plus what little we have in the way of case files. Sheriff Winslow will pick you up. Get your things and head to the airport, you have a ten-o'clock departure time."

Morgan headed to his office immediately, but Reid stood uncertainly for a moment, biting his lip and staring at the floor.

"Problem?" Hotch asked.

"Uh--do you think I could speak with you for a moment?" He looked around, and was glad to see that everyone had started to disperse. "Privately?"

Hotch gestured toward his office.

"What's wrong?" he asked Reid, taking his seat behind the desk.

"Nothing, exactly, it's just--I really think my skills could be better utilized in Houston."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I mean, there are actual bodies, and evidence, and people to interview--I really don't know what good I can do in New Orleans, it just sounds like we'll be working a cold case."

"They need help down there, Reid. There are no records from before the disaster, and the police force was decimated. They finally have some good people in place, but little experience. Rossi and I both feel the root of these crimes is in New Orleans, and your skills will be invaluable." Hotch picked up a stack of phone messages, silently dismissing the young agent.

Reid closed his eyes and sighed in resignation. He'd just have to put aside his issues with Morgan and make the best of it. "Ok. Thanks." He turned and left, feeling no better than he had when he went in.

***

Reid and Morgan had seats together. Morgan was by the window, perusing the thin case file Hotch had given them when Reid spoke up.

"I can't believe we have to fly commercial."

"Budget cuts, pretty boy… not enough private jets to go around."

"Yeah, but come on! This isn't even a direct flight."

"Last minute trip, take what you can get."

Reid was getting no commiseration from his seat mate, so he sighed and pulled out a book. He opened it to the marked page, but after reading the same paragraph for the fourth time, he gave up and shut his eyes.

He didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to think about that kiss, about how easy it had been for him to melt against Derek's lips, how his hand had felt tangled in his hair, how his fingers on his chest and belly had soothed and tickled him at the same time. He didn't want to think about how Derek's voice in his ear had comforted him, made him feel safe and happy and whole again, if just for a little while…

He didn't want to think about it, but, damn it, he _kept_ thinking about it, and now he would be stuck in close proximity to Derek Morgan for at least two days, maybe more, and there was no way to _stop_ thinking about… about the warmth of the shoulder squeezed in tightly against his. Or the sight of long slim thighs, one jiggling up and down, creating a rhythm that would normally be annoying, but which Reid actually found to be pleasant. Or about the big hands, one holding the manila folder while the other pointed to lines of interest as he read down the page. Hard not to think about how those hands would feel moving over his body--

"This case file is crap," Morgan suddenly announced.

Reid flinched. "It is?"

"Yeah, there's just not much to go on. Four males, one female. We have a positive ID on the woman, who's also the latest victim. She and the fourth one were discovered quickly enough to get some useful evidence off of, but the other three were pretty badly decomposed."

"What about the throat wounds, any indication of the type of instrument?"

"Nothing unusual, a straight steel blade is all it says here."

Reid glanced around before posing his next question. "What was… done to them?"

Morgan read from one of the file papers. "Ligature marks indicate their arms and legs were bound. Bruises from fists, contusions from blunt objects, occurring as much as three days before death. Cigarette burns. Signs of dehydration."

"He spent a lot of time with them."

"Mm. And the area around the bodies was always clean, so they were held somewhere else."

"Stomach contents?"

"Sketchy info on the first three, but the last two hadn't eaten real food for at least twenty-four hours."

"Any drugs or toxins?"

"Inconclusive; I imagine our team will order some more specific testing."

"What do we know about the woman?"

"Marquetta Pierce, a Wal-mart employee for the last eight months. Twenty-seven years old, two children, never married. Lived in public housing, didn't own a car, one previous arrest for drunk and disorderly, and that's it. Her whole life in three bullet points."

"Just an ordinary person a little down on her luck."

"Uh-huh. Wait--she lost her mother and her youngest child in the disaster."

Reid looked at him, a troubled expression clouding his face.

"That's terrible."

"Yeah, but hardly uncommon. I would bet the others have similar stories. Well--I hope the other team can come up with some leads."

"I hope _we_ can, too."

They went back to their musings as the plane began its descent into the connecting city.

***

**A/N: Hello! I love seeing the favs and alerts, thank you so much for reading. But I would really appreciate a few more reviews--I'm new to writing for this pairing and would really appreciate feedback, let me know if I'm getting it right and what you would like to see happening between them... So--please review!! Thanks!**

**Seds**


	4. New Orleans

Reid stood next to Morgan as he glared at his cell phone.

"Isn't she answering?"

"Sure, Reid. That's why I'm wearing my happy face." Morgan left another brief message for Acting Sheriff Deirdre "Dee" Winslow. She was supposed to pick them up at the airport at two, but the plane was late, and she didn't appear. They only had a cell phone number as a contact.

Reid called the sheriff's office. The person who answered sounded as though he'd never heard of Sheriff Winslow, and Reid was hard pressed to get him to transfer him to someone else--apparently there was a parade that day and nearly everyone was out on patrol.

Reid finally spoke to a woman who knew that Winslow was supposed to have picked them up, but she hadn't heard from her either. She offered to track her down and took Reid's number, promising to call him back when the sheriff was located.

But forty-five minutes ticked by with no communication, and Morgan was getting more and more tense--the day was slipping away from them. He stood up and motioned for Reid to follow. "Let's just rent a car, check in at the hotel, and then we can go on down to the sheriff's office and see if they were able to come up with some documents for us."

"Ok," Reid agreed, antsy from being still too long. They headed to the long row of car rental counters, each with a line of impatient customers, and went through three companies before finally finding one with an available car.

"Convention season," was the only explanation given.

The two headed out to the rental parking area and were shown to a tiny sub-compact car.

Morgan's eyes narrowed at the thought of his long legs and Reid's lanky body folding up enough to fit into the refrigerator-sized vehicle.

"You have igot/i to be kidding me."

"Sorry, bud, this is it," the rental employee said. "Take it or leave it. I might have something bigger tomorrow evening, but--"

"We'll take it," Reid said, desperate to get out of the airport. "Come on, Morgan, we can stand it for now. We're losing daylight."

Morgan shook his head, but jackknifed himself behind the wheel and put the key in the ignition. Reid backed in, banged his head on the door frame and yelped. He rubbed the throbbing area with one hand and shook open the map with the other, and they drove out of the parking garage headed toward the hotel.

***

"What do you mean,'overbooked'?" Morgan demanded as the hotel clerk peered at his computer screen.

"I'm very sorry, sir, convention season, you know. This happens all the time, I know how inconvenient it can be."

Morgan ran his hand over his face in frustration and Reid stepped up.

"Can you direct us to another hotel, please?"

"Well, you can try calling some places outside the French Quarter, but I imagine they're in the same pickle we are. I'll be happy to get you a phone book--"

i"Phone book?/i Look, we don't have all day to hunt down a hotel, can't you--" Morgan's near tirade was cut short when an attractive young woman came to stand near him.

"Excuse me," she said in a silky voice. "Are you gentlemen looking for a room?"

"Two rooms," corrected Reid.

"Oh, well, I can't help you there, but I do have one--I'm leaving early. I had the same thing happened to me here, and then they had the nerve to charge me for the room! I just got that cleared up and I'm going back to check out of the other place. If you come with me, you'll be sure to get it, and it's booked for tomorrow night as well, if you need it."

Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. "That would be great, thank you."

Reid glanced from the woman back to Morgan. "But--but, wait--"

"What do you mean, wait? It's this or sleep in that roller skate we rented. Come on, we'll be lucky to get this." The woman smiled and nodded in agreement.

Reid noted she was a beauty, with long brown hair and large blue eyes. She was dressed in a tailored, cream-colored linen suit, very business-like--except that her silk blouse was eye-catchingly low-cut and the hem of her skirt fell far short of her knees. Her heels were an inch and a half too high to be considered appropriate for office-wear, and her makeup was just a little heavy for daytime use.

High-priced call girl, he deduced.

They followed her lilting gait out onto the dusty sidewalks of the French Quarter to a bed and breakfast a few blocks away. The woman tapped on a bell and the three waited for the proprietor to come to the front desk. They explained their business and the inn-keeper, an older woman named Mrs. Dewberry, beamed happily at the handsome young men now in her care.

"Well, that's fine, just fine! Mr. Reid, Mr. Morgan, we'll be happy to accommodate you two."

"Do you by any chance have another room available?" Reid asked in a stage whisper.

"Oh, no, honey, it's convention season! You all were lucky to run into Rose here, or you'd be plumb out of luck. Isn't that right, Rose?"

"Uh-huh." Rose shone a dazzling smile on Morgan. He smiled back, and as Reid signed in, he led her aside for a private moment.

"Rose, is it?"

"That's right."

"Are you from around here?"

She laughed. "I'm from all over, but yes, I used to live across the river in Covington. I don't get over that way much anymore; this time of year, all the money's right here in the Quarter. I'm mad as hell that I have to leave early, really cuts into my profits. I'll be back in a few days, though, I'll give you my card if you're interested--" She handed an embossed business card to Morgan.

"I--uh, no, no." He laughed sheepishly but slipped the card in his pocket. "I just wanted to ask you something--do you know anything about voodoo?"

Rose's eyebrows shot upward and she stared at him quizzically.

"My goodness, do you really think everybody from New Orleans dabbles in the dark arts?"

"No, m'am, but I'm interested in the subject and just wondered if you might suggest someone to talk to about it."

She gave him an appraising glance. "Listen--the locals don't talk about that stuff. If you're not into it, you don't know anything. If you are, you know better. But… there's a shop on Rue Royal; it's a tourist trap, but you might learn some things. Ask for Beau."

"Great, thanks, I appreciate it."

"Sure thing." Rose looked at Reid as he came up, and nodded. "Good luck, boys. And be careful. That stuff's not to be taken lightly, trust me." She smiled again, turned, and the two men watched her stride out the door.

"What was that all about?"

"Come on, let's check out the room, and I'll tell you what she said before I call Winslow again."

They trudged up the narrow staircase to a small room filled with antique furniture, every surface covered with doilies and cutesy knickknacks. In the center of the room was what appeared to be an abnormally small full-sized bed piled high with ruffled pillows.

The pair stood staring at it, and Reid shook his head.

"I'll sleep on the floor."

Morgan gave him a look. "Let's worry about that later, let me call Winslow."

The sheriff finally answered, offering apologies, and she promised to head to their hotel immediately to pick them up.

***

A vehicle with the New Orleans Sheriff's Department logo pulled up in front of Dewberry's and a small, trim woman in uniform hopped out to greet Reid and Morgan.

Dee Winslow had dark skin, long nails, and a warm, deep voice that gave way to an easy laugh. Several strands of colorful plastic beads were draped around her neck, and she smiled broadly as she removed all but a few and handed them to Reid and Morgan.

"Gentlemen, my apologies, this town is crazy today. I had to officiate at a damn parade that the frickin' Chamber of Commerce pulled out of its ass at the last minute. Hope you got settled in all right?"

"Yes, there was a little confusion about the hotel--" began Reid, but Morgan interrupted.

"Sheriff Winslow--"

"Oh, call me Dee, everybody does!"

"Ok, Dee, were you able to get us any information relating to the case in Houston? Have you got case files, evidence, anything?"

"Well, not like you're used to, I'll bet. But I'll be glad to show you what we do have, and I imagine you'll want to talk to a few people around here," she said as she opened the passenger side doors for them. She put one hand on the top of Reid's head to guide him into the back seat, then caught herself and laughed.

"Sorry, hon, force of habit."

Reid ruefully rubbed the spot where he'd bruised himself earlier. "That's all right, I can use the help."

On the way, the trio chatted about the weather, the state of the city since the hurricanes, and the difficulty the boys had encountered in getting a place to stay. They arrived downtown at the sheriff's station and headed into the old building just as the last few day shift employees were leaving.

Dee led them to her office, pulled up chairs, and set a worn cardboard box on a low table in front of them. There was evidence of water damage all along the bottom. It gave off a musty smell.

"There you go, fellows, have at it."

Reid glanced up hesitantly, but Morgan started to reach into the box when a large brown spider scuttled out. He quickly sat back, a look of distaste on his face.

"Nice security system you got there."

"Yeah, well, we're lucky to have anything at all." The sheriff dug in a desk drawer and found a box of latex gloves, then handed each man a pair. Morgan delved in and pulled out a rippled mass of papers, with a few stuck-together Polaroid photos of bloodied bodies on the top.

He looked skeptically at Dee and asked, "This is it?"

She nodded and shrugged. "I wasn't with the department when all this was happening, but apparently there were three murders following the M.O. of your Houston case. We lucked out--that box happened to be in the case officer's living room, so it only got soaked, not washed away. But, this is it--all that's left of the investigation."

"Can we talk with the officer?" asked Reid.

"Well, there were two working the case. One of them disappeared right after Katrina, no idea where he is. The other is residing on Claiborne Avenue with the rest of the stiffs."

"The cemetery?"

"Um-hm, St. Louis Cemetery No. 2. He died trying to help some people off a roof. He was in a boat at the time."

All three were silent for a moment, then Reid asked, "So, no one else dealt directly with those murders?"

Dee shook her head. "A few little old murders downriver don't exactly get star treatment, you know. We've always been too busy trying to help the living--even before Katrina. But, I've been asking around. There's still a couple of officers left who remember the case, and I do have a name for you. Tom Black."

"Who's that?" asked Morgan.

"He was a big-time houngan--a voodoo priest--who also happened to run a drug racket down behind the Superdome. Rumor was that he'd begun to cut into a rival operation and was killing off the principals to gain more control."

"Did he do it ritualistically?"

"Well, so they say. He definitely made 'em suffer. But, as you can see, any usable evidence has been destroyed and the people who have real information are either long gone, or will be tight-lipped as hell if they know what's good for them."

Reid frowned. "You spoke in the past tense--is Tom Black dead?"

"Sure is. They found him strangled and gutted and left on Marie Laveau's tomb about a month after Katrina. Nobody even wanted to touch the body, they had to order the guys to go out there to collect it. They were all sure it was cursed."

Reid glanced at Morgan before continuing.

"So, he obviously couldn't have committed the Houston murders."

"Yeah. Well, so you'd think. But what I'm getting is that people believe he lives on through his nephew, Eldon Black, who he was supposedly grooming to take his place as high priest someday. And, as drug lord, too, I would bet. But no one's seen his sorry ass since the hurricane."

"So, he could have gone to Houston with the refugees," Reid said thoughtfully.

"Sure, he could of. But that's out of my jurisdiction. Now, I have a couple of folks you can interview, but we sure didn't have any luck with them the first time around. Let's see; here." Dee dug deeper into the evidence box and brought out a warped file folder. She handed it to Reid, who opened it and scanned the faint but still-legible names and numbers listed.

"This should be helpful," he said. Dee laughed.

"It might of been back before August 2005, but lord, who's to say where any of those people are now? Good luck on finding them, and good luck getting them to talk if you do. Bottom line, fellas, I don't know what we can do to help you out. I wish I had more to offer, but--"

"Have you ever seen this woman?" Morgan brought out copies of a blown-up driver's license picture and autopsy photos of the deceased fifth victim from the case folder and gave them to the sheriff.

Dee took them and examined each one carefully. She shook her head and pursed her lips.

"No, uh-uh. But, I've only been with the department for two years, I walked a beat before that and unless she was a career criminal--or victim--I wouldn't know her. I'll send these around, though, see if we get a nibble. Pretty thing, bless her heart. Was she raped?"

"No. But there was evidence of torture, ligature marks, burns…"

Dee nodded. "Let me tell you something. I don't know where Eldon Black is, but wherever his is, he's still a mean son-of-a-bitch and needs to be locked up. So, if there's anything you can think of that I can help you with, just let me know. The whole department--all twelve of us--are at your disposal."

Reid and Morgan shook her hand, gave their thanks, and walked with Dee to the squad car to be driven back to the hotel.

***

**A/N: Thank you for reading--I'd really appreciate a review, even if it's just a brief one! I'm pathetic and need the validation!! Ha ha, yeah...**


	5. Dinner

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading, and thank you to all who reviewed! This is just a short chapter, a bit of plot development--I promise, the next one will have Reid and Morgan getting much, much closer, hee.**

***

Reid and Morgan stood in front of Dewberry's Bed and Breakfast.

"You hungry?" Morgan asked.

"Starving."

"Let's see what we can find."

The pair walked until they found an old-fashioned diner on a side street. They settled in a booth and a middle-aged waitress came to take their order.

"What you boys going to have?"

Morgan had already made his decision. "Steak and eggs, side of hash browns. Does toast come with that?"

"Uh-huh. And you, hon?"

Reid frowned at the menu. "I'll have a club sandwich, please."

"Fries with that?"

"Do you have anything else?"

"Hash browns."

Reid hesitated.

"How about a salad?"

The waitress glanced from side to side then leaned forward slightly. "The produce truck's two days late. What we got back there looks more like pea soup than lettuce."

Reid grimaced. "I'll go with the fries."

"Okey-dokey. It'll be right out."

Morgan grinned. "What's the matter, pretty boy, you worrying about cholesterol?"

"Yes, of course. You should be too."

"I'm healthy as a horse."

"For now. You are hurtling toward middle age..."

"Oh, you think I'm going to die in my sixties?"

"If you keep eating steak and eggs and fried potatoes, then yes, it's a distinct possibility. When's the last time you had your blood pressure checked?"

"Lay off, Reid. If I want to be nagged, I'll call my mama."

"I'm merely pointing out a serious health risk that could easily be avoided by making a few small life-style changes--"

Morgan leaned forward and whispered. "We're goddamn federal agents, kid. Our life expectancy sucks. I'm going to enjoy every day that I do have, now let it go."

Reid shook his head as he pulled out the case file. "Fine, commit slow suicide. What time do you want to leave in the morning?"

"Leave? What the hell are you talking about, we have at least a full day's worth of work ahead of us, probably two--"

"Morgan, we have nothing. Dead and missing investigators, a box of wood pulp, a washed out list of untraceable witnesses, and a few officers who may or may not remember anything--to use your words, that's crap. We'll be much more useful in Houston."

"No, no, look--I'm going to send that list to Garcia first thing in the morning--you know she'll come up with something. I gave Rossi Eldon Brown's name, he may have something for us by tomorrow. We're going back to the sheriff's department and rattle a few cages there. After that, I want to stop by the voodoo shop and talk to that guy Beau. I agree with Hotch--I think what's happening in Houston now, started here."

"Do you really think we can just barrel into that shop, flash our badges and hope to have anybody talk to us?"

"Why not?"

"In spite of New Orleans' reputation as an international city, underneath it all, it's really just a small town with a lot of visitors. Tourists aside, strangers are regarded with suspicion. And voodoo--that's serious stuff, no one's going to open up to people from the government."

"So, we'll pose as dumb tourists looking for a thrill."

"Great. You'll fit the role perfectly, but what about me?" Reid had a deadpan expression, but his eyes twinkled in a way that made Morgan want to tickle him until he shrieked. He grinned.

"You're right, there aren't enough acting classes in the world for you to hide the know-it-all geek factor. How about you just keep your mouth shut for a change and follow my lead?"

Reid broke into a real smile, but it faded quickly. "Morgan--I meant what I said about voodoo. It's a real religion, with an intricate belief system that informs an entire sub-culture. There's a lot of power there, and it's not to be taken lightly, despite what the guidebooks suggest. You can't treat it as a joke."

Morgan chuckled. "Reid! Don't tell me you believe in that stuff!"

"No, of course not. But I do respect it, and I do know that outsiders are not welcome. And, if there is a lead there, you can be sure someone's working to keep it concealed. So, we need to take a soft approach, or they'll close ranks and we won't get a thing."

Morgan nodded thoughtfully, and the waitress brought their food.

"Ma'am? Do you have any steak sauce?"

"Sure, hon, be right back."

Morgan regarded Reid's disapproving look. "Anything wrong with steak sauce?"

"High sodium content, use sparingly. What's a serving size, a tablespoon? Use half." He glanced at Morgan's thick steak and greasy eggs. "Although, in the greater context of the cholesterol and fat you're about to consume, it hardly matters."

The waitress brought the bottle of steak sauce and Morgan flipped up the cap and poured half a cupful over his steak. Reid sighed. He picked the wilted lettuce off of his sandwich, then probed deeper for the desiccated tomato slice. He looked up and was struck by the way the sharply-defined muscles in Morgan's forearm flexed as he cut into his steak and the way his tapered fingers held the fork as he brought the morsel to his lips. Morgan closed his eyes, savoring the flavor and texture, then made a velvety "umm" of appreciation as he chewed. The sound was like a caress and Reid stared for a long moment before biting into his cold sandwich.

It was going to be a long night at the bed and breakfast.


	6. Bed

**A/N: Just wanted to warn you, this chapter contains graphic M/M sex and language. I would rate it NC-17. **

**Seds**

***

After dinner, Reid and Morgan sauntered toward their room, passing bars with open doors which offered a welcome blast of chilled air and snippets of live jazz. Occasionally they caught the smell of frying onions and garlic; other times, stale grease and garbage. The streets were teeming with people talking and yelling, walking and staggering back and forth between slow-moving cars and honking taxis. Everyone was working hard at having a good time.

"Whew, I'm beat. That baby bed is starting to sound real good to me, how about you?" Morgan said as they entered the B&B. Reid paused, then followed him upstairs without answering. They went into the room and Morgan fished a toothbrush and toothpaste out of his bag, then looked around.

"Oh, hell, no. We have to share a bathroom with the whole floor!"

Reid nodded. "That's typical of rooming houses built in this era. I imagine indoor plumbing was installed long after the fact, probably as late as the forties; while you're in there take note of the style of pipes running above the commode--"

But Morgan had already headed off to ready himself for bed. Reid sat on the overstuffed mattress and began tossing pillows onto the floor. By the time Morgan returned, he had fashioned a pallet as far away from the bed as possible and was preparing to lower himself onto it.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh--well, the two of us aren't going to fit in that little bed very well, and there're enough pillows to spare, so--"

"Uh-uh, you're just as tired as I am. Don't be stupid, we can share a bed. Come on, I'm not letting you camp out on the floor, I need your brain in top form for tomorrow."

Reid glanced uncertainly from the floor to the bed.

"I mean it, get on up here." Morgan took off his shoes and socks, stripped out of his shirt and pants, and, clad only in black silk boxer shorts, slipped under the light sheet. Reid watched, then sighed and came to lie on the top of the covers, removing only his jacket and loafers.

Morgan stared. "Now what are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm going to bed. Good night. Uh… you want to turn out the light?"

"Reid, take off your clothes, for God's sake."

"I'm fine. Don't want to get cold."

_"Cold?_ Are you crazy? It must be eighty degrees in here."

"I have chronically low blood pressure, which leads to a tendency not to retain a thermal consistency, I used to think it was a thyroid problem, but--"

"Reid! Take off your pants and get comfortable."

"No, I'm fine."

_Kid was unbelievable._ "Then, at least take off your tie."

Reid glanced down and did as instructed, then folded his hands over his chest. Morgan shook his head.

"Relax, will you? You look like you're ready for your viewing."

"I'm very comfortable, thanks."

"Fine, suit yourself." Morgan turned over to face the window. He switched off the lamp, but the room was still dimly lit by a nearby streetlight. Sounds of revelers and horns honking wafted into the stillness of the room, and Morgan sighed. The room was too warm and the laboring air conditioner couldn't keep up. And, having a skittish Reid laid out next to him like a corpse didn't help--he would never get to sleep at this rate. Morgan scooted as close to the edge of the bed as possible so as not to risk a stray touch that would send his bedmate scuttling back to his pallet in a panic.

But, the tension of the day gradually began to drain away and he felt himself calming down, his muscles loosening and relaxing, even the ones in his tight lower back. The street sounds became nothing more than background noise and his body heat ebbed as he stilled. He was almost asleep when Reid's voice broke into his nearly unconscious state.

"Morgan?"

Morgan's eyes flew open. "What?"

"I--I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"You know. Everything I said, the way I acted after we…"

Fighting grogginess, Morgan turned over.

"Hey…"

"Yeah?"

"It's ok, pretty boy."

"No, it's not. I was trying to blame you, and that's not fair." Morgan could see that Reid was staring up at the ceiling as he spoke. "I don't know why I behaved like that. Well, I do, but--I mean, I'm disappointed in myself. I should have just--"

"Just what?"

After a long pause, Reid spoke softly, as if to himself.

"I should have been stronger."

"Stronger?"

Reid nodded and closed his eyes, feeling tears prickling at the corners.

"I should never have had drinks with you that night, I shouldn't have--"

"Shouldn't have what?"

"I shouldn't have kissed you." The words seemed to have been wrenched out of him and Morgan heard a catch of breath as he suppressed a sob.

"No, now, don't say that, don't say that…"

"I was acting like a stupid kid, I couldn't face up to what I am, and--"

"Spencer--"

"I used you, Derek, I wasn't brave enough to be honest with you or myself, and I ended up making everything worse."

Morgan didn't say anything. For several seconds, the hum of the ancient window unit and the muffled street noises almost masked Reid's efforts to prevent his emotions from becoming audible, but a ragged exhalation finally escaped and Morgan felt a rush of protectiveness.

"Spencer, come here."

Morgan's voice washed over Reid like a gentle wave. He turned to look at him and hesitated only for a moment before scooting closer and allowing Morgan to take him in his arms. A sob finally broke through, and he wept.

Morgan spoke softly. "It's ok, kid, let it out. Let it out and let it go. You've been holding this in for a long time, haven't you?"

Reid nodded against Morgan's bare chest.

"Yeah, I know, I know. Well, don't hold it in anymore, just be yourself, ok? 'Cause, that's the best, Spencer, you're the best, and there's nothing wrong with who you are. Nothing wrong at all…" He hugged Reid tightly and ran his hand up and down his back. Reid shuddered and found himself relaxing, allowing the gentle words and touch to comfort him.

They lay quietly for a long time, then Reid forced himself to break away and lie back on his side of the bed.

"You ok?" Morgan asked.

"Y-yeah. Well, no--but I will be."

"It's tough."

"Yeah. It's strange--I feel lighter--as if a weight has been lifted. I've been scared for so long… It all seems so stupid now. No one gives a damn, do they? No one but me. I guess I've just been fighting myself." He paused and Morgan could feel him forcing himself to gain control of his voice before speaking again.

"Morgan?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Thanks for letting me be an idiot, and thanks… for being here."

"Reid--I've always been here. Always will be. Ok?"

"Ok."

Morgan watched as the heaving of Reid's chest slowed and settled into a rhythmic rise and fall. He could see the tears on his eyelashes still glinting in the dim light, and he fought the urge to pull him close and kiss them away. Suddenly, Reid returned to his place against Morgan's chest, and Morgan wrapped his arms around him. Reid looked up, he looked down and their lips touched. The kiss materialized chastely at first, uncertain and restrained, but then Reid's tongue slipped between Morgan's lips and hot sparks traveled through each of them, hitting them both squarely in the groin.

Morgan grasped his face in one hand, breathing him in, tasting him. Their tongues slipped over and over and around each other, and Morgan moved lower, raking his teeth over Reid's neck, down to his shoulder. Reid moaned softly and the sound brought Morgan back to reality. He opened his eyes and reluctantly pulled back.

"Reid--no. This isn't a good idea,"

"Why? Don't you want me?" Morgan could see surprise and hurt in Reid's eyes.

"I _do_. Of course I do--but, jeeze, kid! You just came out to me, in fact, I think you just came out to yourself--and I don't think we should rush into anything. You need to take your time and--"

"Time? God, it's been forever. I've been thinking about this and struggling with myself for so long, and now that I've accepted it--I don't want to wait anymore. I want this, and I thought you did, too. Please don't be the responsible one tonight, Morgan--I can't stand it. I just… I just want to be with you." He went in for another deep kiss and Morgan felt his arousal growing more urgent. Reid's hand trailed downward and he shyly rubbed the meaty erection straining inside Morgan's shorts. The touch made him twitch and groan, and he had to force himself to again pull back.

"Spencer, are you sure? Are you really sure. Because, if you wake up hating me, if I were to see that 'bastard took advantage of me' look in your eyes tomorrow, well, I couldn't stand that. I've been thinking about this, too, and I don't want to be that guy. Understand?"

"I do understand, and it won't be like that. I'm not a child, Derek, and this time I'm not drunk. I know what I want. Please. I want to make love, and I want it to be with you, right now, tonight. No more waiting."

Morgan smiled. "Now, hold on a second. You_ have_ had sex, right? With girls, I mean?"

Reid chuckled. "Yeah, contrary to popular belief. But… it was never the way I thought it would be." He nestled closer to Morgan. "You know, growing up I heard so much about how fantastic sex is, and then when it finally happened, it was sort of like--this is it? This is what all the fuss is about? I kept trying, but it was never the magical experience the men's magazines would lead you to believe. And I kept hurting the girls' feelings. So, I just gave up. And then--I met you, and all of a sudden, I was so confused I thought I would go crazy. But, before I could figure it out--a lot of bad things happened that I had to deal with, and I just kept pushing the feelings further and further away…"

Morgan nodded. Having worked so hard to suppress his own desires, he found that he completely understood. "I hear you, kid… But, you know what I'm saying. I don't want you doing something you're not ready for--"

"Derek--I trust you. Do you know how many times you could have seduced me by now? Lots of times. _Lots_. But you didn't--because I wasn't ready and you knew it. You were taking care of me, and that means the world to me." Reid ran his hand over Morgan's face and pressed his lips to his. "But… I'm ready now. So, please don't worry. Let's just, let's just see what happens."

"A minute ago you didn't want to take off your damn tie."

"I know." Reid smiled and rolled off the bed. Illuminated by the streetlight, he shucked off his pants, then took off his shirt. Morgan grinned at the white cotton boxer shorts that swallowed Reid's thin frame. He'd have to do something about that, take him shopping or something. Or, no--actually, he wouldn't change a thing.

Reid slipped under the covers and Morgan gathered him into his arms. They lay there for a moment, saying nothing, then Morgan gave Reid a hungry kiss. Their lips and fingers traveled over one another, discovering the slopes and planes of each other's bodies, and Morgan could feel Reid shiver.

"Cold, sexy boy?"

Reid shook his head. "It's you--you make me shiver." The kisses became more desperate, the current between their bodies more charged, and they instinctively moved together until Reid was on his back with his legs wrapped around Morgan's waist, urging him closer, urging him inside… They ground against each other, both hard, both wanting.

"Please, Derek--" Reid gasped.

"Hang on." To Reid's disappointment, Morgan lifted himself off of him, stood, and strode to the dresser for his bag. He returned with a small bottle of hand lotion and a condom.

"Need some supplies."

Reid's eyes grew wide. "Oh… Right."

Morgan placed the items on the bed then pulled off his underwear and Reid had a moment to fully appreciate the beauty and bounty of the man standing before him. Morgan slid in next to him and ran one hand over Reid's ass, squeezing and cupping a firm round cheek through the underwear. "Let's have these off," he said, tugging at the waistband. Reid hastily raised his hips and shimmied out of them and Morgan dropped them to the floor beside him.

"Come here."

Reid slipped back into Morgan's embrace and they kissed again. Without leaving Reid's mouth, he reached behind him and found the lotion, flicked it open and put a dollop on his middle finger. "I've got to get you ready, you know that, right?'

"Uh… Yes. Ok." Reid bit his lip and allowed Morgan to manipulate his body into a more accessible position. He gasped as he felt Morgan's finger spreading the cream over, then into, his entrance. "Oh, God--"

"Sorry, son, it's just me. Common mistake."

"Please don't be funny now."

"I'm sorry--hey, are you scared?"

"No… Just, uh, excited. And… terrified. Just a little terrified."

Morgan grinned, then brushed his forehead with his lips. "It's ok. We're not going to do anything you don't want to do. Just tell me and I'll stop."

"Ok."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," he whispered.

"Ok."

Morgan continued to gently and slowly prepare his lover, listening for signs that he was becoming uncomfortable, taking note when Reid began to moan and move his hips against his hand. He worked his fingers inside him, finding the place that made him shudder, helping him to relax, to open up for him. He put kisses and nips on Reid's neck, chest and belly, then took him in his mouth. He loved the noises Reid was making and the way he flinched, startled, when he carefully bit down on the sensitive flesh before licking and sucking at it. He had just let it slip all the way down his throat when Reid cried out.

"Derek--I'm going to--"

Morgan pulled away. "No, you're not, sweet thing. Not until I'm inside you." He gave a few more licks and a kiss to the quivering member, then raised himself to get on top of Reid, pushing his legs apart with his knee. He supported himself on his outstretched arms and looked down into his eyes.

"Spencer--is this what you want?"

Reid nodded.

"Sure?"

"Yes."

"All right." Morgan sat back, opened a small foil package and slipped on the condom. He applied a generous coating of lotion to himself and more to Reid. He leaned forward, wanting another kiss, when he heard Reid ask, "Derek--be honest. Is this going to hurt?"

"No, baby. No way am I going to hurt you. Just relax. Trust me and relax. And if you don't like it, tell me immediately. I'll stop, I promise. Just tell me, ok?"

"Ok."

Morgan got his kiss and settled the two of them into a comfortable position, then pushed into Reid with steady pressure. He heard him gasp, then moan, and he paused.

"You ok?"

"Uh--yeah. Go ahead."

Morgan continued by inches, using all his powers of self-control to take it slowly. He felt Reid shift uncomfortably under him.

"Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you please stop?"

"Oh, God, am I hurting you?"

"No--it's just--I think I have to go to the bathroom."

"Oh!" Morgan hastily pulled out and lay beside Reid, who continued to lie there, considering.

"Well?" Morgan asked.

"Um… Never mind, I don't. Sorry."

Morgan chuckled. "That's all right, it takes some getting used to…" He regained his position and slid back into his lover's warmth. They had a few more false starts as Reid became accustomed to the strange sensation of having Morgan moving inside him, but gradually, their bodies found a rhythm and Morgan's deep thrusts began to come faster and harder.

Reid clung to him, his analytical mind unable to process the overload of sensory stimulation blasting in from every nerve in his body. He was aware of nothing, nothing but him, Derek, his taste, his smell, his cock filling him, grinding inside him, turning him into a quivering boneless mass, how his legs felt supporting him, how his hands felt gripping his hips, and, God, his mouth, his mouth, moving on him, over him, rough wet kisses, a bite, a lick, a whisper…

"Oh, Derek… I'm so close, I need--I need--"

"I know what you need, I know." Morgan grasped Reid's cock and began stroking him in cadence with his own movements, and Reid arched upward, nails digging into his lover's arms and back. He bucked and thrust into the tight grip sliding so rapidly up and down his length, and soon a groan of release was torn from his throat. Morgan pulled back to watch as a series of pearly streams exploded onto Reid's chest and belly, and his cock throbbed in Morgan's hand with the tremors of aftershock.

Morgan smiled down at him, knowing he couldn't see him, he was too far gone for vision, he was still panting and writhing, but that was good, that was what Reid had wanted, it was what Morgan had wanted for him, to get him off, to turn him into a gasping, mewling, limp little animal, just the way he should be after a round like that, and now it was his turn--

God, Reid was beautiful, so fucking beautiful--perfect really, that silky hair falling in his eyes, that mouth, that soft, warm mouth, one of these days he'd teach him to wrap those gorgeous lips around his cock, to take him in and swallow him down, _yeah pretty boy, one of these days, one of these days I'm going to teach you, it's going to be so good..._

He pulled Reid's legs higher, resting them on his shoulders, and began thrusting in at a deeper, steeper angle. He tried to go easy on the kid--damn it, it was his first time, he didn't want to hurt him, but, fuck, it felt so good, he felt so good, and he wasn't arguing, he just took it, loved it, he was so sweet--_damn it Spencer Reid, you're so goddamn sweet--boy, how'd you get to be so sweet? Looking up at me with those big dark eyes, what're you thinking, what's in that incredible mind of yours? Doesn't matter, I'm there, I'm almost there, I...aw_, fuck.

Morgan came. Reid marveled at the sounds he made and the expression on his face. He smiled to think that_ he_ had made him feel that way, that he had somehow given him that gift, that release. Morgan dropped his full weight onto Reid, who then clasped his arms around his lover's waist, burying his face in Morgan's neck, listening to him breathing hard as he recovered. Several minutes ticked by before Morgan lifted himself and looked down at Reid.

"You ok?" he gasped.

"Yeah. Better than ok."

"That what you wanted?"

"God, yes."

Morgan studied Reid's almost angelic smile for a moment and shook his head.

"Fuck, Reid, what have you done to me?"

Morgan laughed helplessly and rolled onto his side, taking Reid with him. They nestled into each other despite the heat. Exhausted, sweaty, wrapped in each other's arms, they fell asleep to the sound of their heartbeats while the rhythm of New Orleans pulsed just outside their boarding house window.


	7. Morning

**A/N: Just a quick follow up to the last chapter, more next time. Please review, thank you!!**

**Seds**

*******

Morgan was cold. The chill had disturbed his sleep for over an hour, and although he had forced himself to ignore the discomfort, an actual shiver forced him into consciousness. He realized he was lying huddled up and naked, completely exposed to the refrigerated pre-dawn air, without a scrap of bedding with which to cover himself. He glanced at the other side of the bed and made out a pale shoulder jutting up from a thick pile of blankets.

_Reid, _he thought. Who'd have taken him for a cover thief? His irritation faded into satisfaction as he thought of the night before, of what they'd done together--the sounds he'd made, the way his body had fit against his own, the way it had felt to fall asleep with him in his arms. He reached out and placed his hand on Reid's chilled bare shoulder.

"Huh?" he gasped, sitting up instantly and blinking. "Oh, Morgan. Is it morning?" He rubbed his eyes as he got his bearings, taking in the strange room and the strange bed. The bed that he was sharing with Morgan. Who he had... God.

"Close enough, pretty boy. How you feeling?"

Reid noted the smug grin on Morgan's face and reflected for a long moment before answering. "I'm a little sore, actually."

Morgan frowned in concern. "You are?"

"Yes. But, I suppose that's only to be expected after having such vigorous anal intercourse for the first time."

"Uh--"

"Especially considering the circumference of your penis versus the rather modest capacity of my sphincter."

"Please don't say 'sphincter.'"

"Well, it's simple physics--although, I should point out it's not the diameter alone that's the culprit, it's the length as well. Which, when you factor in the amount of time spent in actual copulation, multiplied by the rate of speed and frequency--"

"Reid--"

"--in combination with the depth of thrust and amount of pressure applied, not to mention the repeated incidents of penetration, it really wouldn't be at all surprising if there were some microscopic tearing--"

"I don't think--"

"--or, possibly, moderate abrasion--"

"Now, wait a minute--"

"--or even bruising--"

"It can't have been that bad…"

"Really, when you think about it, it'll be amazing if I can walk at all!"

"Reid, please! A simple 'hey, jerk, you fucked me raw' would have sufficed." Morgan sighed and pulled him into his arms and kissed him deeply. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I should have taken it slower, you were just so--"

"Oh, I'm not complaining. Actually--it was wonderful." Reid happily succumbed to Morgan's kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck and sliding one leg over his. "It was incredible…" He buried his face in Morgan's neck. "...perfect…" He bit the silky skin, sending an additional shot of desire through an already aroused Morgan. "Just the way I always thought it was supposed to be--oh--" He gasped as Morgan took his cock in his hand and stroked him into a full erection.

"So, I guess you're too sore for another round," Morgan murmured.

"No! No, I'm not. I'm fine, I'm really fine."

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh."

"How are the abrasions?"

"I--no abrasions."

"Bruising?"

'Uh-uh."

"Tearing?"

"No! I was just kidding..."

Morgan gave him a long look. "It's not funny to make me think I hurt you," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry, Derek, I was just--you looked so proud of yourself, and I--"

"This on top of stealing all the covers."

"Huh?"

Morgan smiled and reached for a condom and the lube.

"Never mind. I forgive you. Now, just relax, and let's try not to abrade anything this time." He slid his tongue into Reid's mouth and Reid murmured "Oh, Derek," as he settled on his back.

With Reid knowing what to expect, their lovemaking went more smoothly this time. The old mattress springs creaked, and the iron headboard thumped against the wall in time to Morgan's powerful thrusts, and their moans and cries punctuated the rhythm, culminating in a series of happy curses as each one came.

When they finished, Reid snuggled into Morgan's arms and sighed.

"This is so good. I don't want to get up."

"Me either, kid. I could stay like this all day."

"Have you ever spent all day in bed with someone?" Reid asked curiously.

"Uh--well, not _all_ day. You have to eat, you know."

Reid looked up at him and grinned. "Maybe we can come back here one day. Get this same room, this same tiny bed--"

"This bed turned out to be kind of wonderful."

"Yeah…" They went for another kiss when Morgan's cell phone alarm went off, letting them know it was six o'clock a.m. and time to get moving.

"Damn it," Reid said.

"Come on, pretty boy. We've got miles to go--you want to hit the shower first?"

"Sure, I'm a little, uh, sticky."

Morgan laughed and gave his ass a smack as Reid climbed out of bed and bent down to pick up his pants. He gathered clean clothes and toiletries and headed for the bathroom. Morgan got up, pulled on his underwear and found the case file, then used his cell phone to call Rossi.

"Rossi here."

"Hey, it's Morgan. How's it going?"

"Slow. We got an ID on the fourth victim, but the earlier ones are no-goes."

"Name?"

"DeMarcus Hall, a long-time Houston resident. He was making a name for himself as an up-and-coming-drug dealer before his untimely demise."

"No connection to New Orleans?"

"Not so far."

"Any leads on the unsub?"

"Nothing useful. Things have been so transitory, it's hard to find anyone who knows anything."

"Well, I have a name for you--Eldon Brown."

"Who's he?"

"Nephew of a voodoo priest out here who was known for muscling in on rival drug operations. Sounds like he left his victims in a condition similar to our Houston folks. Eldon's rumored to have taken on the family business--make that businesses--after his uncle was murdered."

"Hmm. Ok, I'll see if that gets us anywhere. Have you located him?"

"No, we're working on that today, but it sounds like he's in your current neck of the woods."

"All right, do you have anything else?"

"Some scraps from the original case, we're going to follow up on those, and I've got some names for Garcia to research."

"Let me know what you come up with."

"Will do."

Morgan hung up. He sat back on the bed and shut his eyes, seeing a day planner in his mind and methodically filling in the time slots. But the thought of Reid beside him, tousled and warm and naked, kept drifting in and derailing his attempts to organize the day. When the door opened and Reid walked in, freshly showered and shaved, dressed in his usual geek fashion, a broad smile crossed his face. He didn't have much hope for getting anywhere with the case, but it promised to be a good day anyway. He stood, walked over to Reid and cupped his face in his hand.

"Kiss me, pretty boy."

"Oh, uh, ok." Reid awkwardly complied and Morgan grinned at him.

"Something wrong?"

"No, it's just, I'm already in work mode and you're still in your underwear. I tend to compartmentalize my roles throughout the day, and you're confusing me."

"Confusion looks good on you. But, you're right--when we walk out this door, we better both be in work mode." Morgan began gathering his clean clothes and headed for the shower. When he finished dressing, he stepped out of the communal bathroom only to find a tiny, elderly woman in a bathrobe patiently standing outside the door.

"Good morning, ma'am. Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Oh, that's all right, dear. It was worth it!" She glanced up and down at him and winked. "Tell me, son, was it you and that skinny boy making all the ruckus in the room next door to me?"

"Uh..."

"Oh, don't be embarrassed, heavens. My grandson's gay as a goose, doesn't bother me a bit. I just wanted to tell you congratulations!"

"Congratulations?"

"Yes, my husband and I made noises like that on our honeymoon and we've had fifty-seven wonderful years together. I just wanted to wish you good luck. Sounds like you're going to be very happy together! Have a nice day, now." Eyes twinkling, she gave Morgan a smile and stepped into the bathroom.

Too nonplussed to respond, Morgan stared after her and then headed back to the room.

***


	8. Interviews

**A/N: Sorry to take so long to update! Just some plot development in this one... Reviews deeply appreciated!**

**Seds**

*****

Morgan and Reid headed to their small rental car. They squeezed in and drove to the sheriff's department, where Dee had agreed to let them have the use of her office for the morning. After being greeted and given coffee, they settled in and Reid made a second attempt to go through the ruined evidence box while Morgan called Garcia.

"Top of the morning to you, Garcia, Queen-of-All-Information here, you ask, I tell. Hit me."

"Morning, baby girl." Derek's warm greeting clearly communicated a smile.

Garcia's eyes widened. "Oh, my God! You had sex!"

Morgan stared at the phone in surprise. "Garcia! What did--how did--what makes you say that?"

"Listen, my steaming hunk of chocolate love, you only have that particular lilt in your voice after a night of hot erotic sex action, so don't lie to me. Who was she? A Cajun princess? Voodoo mama? Lady alligator wrestler?"

"Garcia, let's just forget it--"

"Lingerie model? Cocktail waitress? Systems analyst from Cincinnati?"

Morgan sighed. "Do you think we could concentrate on work for a moment?"

"Fine, don't tell me, I'll have more fun fantasizing anyway. What can I do for you, angel-pants?"

Morgan rolled his eyes and grinned. Part of him longed to tell her exactly who had shared his bed last night just to hear the squeals that he knew the information would produce, but he forced himself to stick to business.

"I have the names of possible witnesses from an old case and I'm hoping you can help me track them down."

"My fingers are poised for action, much as I imagine yours were last night."

"Uh--great. Here goes--" Morgan read off a list of names and the phone numbers that they had previously been associated with. He could hear Garcia tapping furiously at her keyboard. After several moments, she made a sound of frustration.

"Hmm. Babe, I'm going to have to get back with you on this. The trail is cold on all of these."

"They were dislocated by Katrina, we think."

"Ok. I'll see what I can come up with."

"Thanks, sweetness."

They hung up and Reid looked at him. "Garcia give you a hard time about something?"

"She could tell I had sex last night."

Reid's mouth fell open. "She could? How?"

"Something in my voice, apparently."

"She's freakishly perceptive."

"I know."

"Well, did she have anything?"

"No, not yet. How about you, anything?"

"There's a transcript of an interview with a Beauregard Devereux, his address is on Rue Royal. Isn't that where the voodoo shop is located?"

"Right, and we're supposed to talk to a guy named Beau. Must be the same one."

"Well, it says here, from what I can make out, that Tom Brown was one of his best customers."

"Hmm. Sounds promising."

Sheriff Dee buzzed them on the intercom.

"You gents ready to interview my officers?"

"Yes, ma'am," Morgan answered.

"On our way."

Two deputies came in, one a small, round African-American man that appeared to be in his thirties, the other a tall, stringy Anglo with many more years on him. Dee followed.

"Special Agents Reid and Morgan, this is Deputy Delong and Deputy Walters."

They shook hands all around and everyone took a seat except Walters. He excused himself so the other man could be interviewed independently.

"Deputy Delong, how long have you been with the department?" Reid began.

"Fifteen years."

"And you were here when the Tom Brown murder occurred?"

"Sure was. It was kind of a big deal."

"How so?"

"Well, there had been a series of murders leading up to that point, and we all thought he was responsible for them. Things did quiet down after he was out of the picture."

"Were you involved in the investigation?"

"No, that was Smith and Caruthers. But I remember them talking about it."

"Could you tell us about that?"

"They said Brown's body was a gory mess by the time it was found. Some dogs had gotten to it. But the cause of death appeared to be blood loss from a throat wound. It was like he'd been bled. There were signs he'd been killed ritualistically. The mutilation of the body definitely took place after death."

"So, he wasn't tortured, or--"

"I can't say that for sure. I just know the belly was cut open after he died."

"Do you know what kind of instrument was used? Was it a clean cut, or ragged?"

"From what I remember, they said it looked like somebody knew what they were doing. I don't know what was used."

"Did they have any leads?"

"Rumor had it that Brown was taken down by a rival drug dealer's gang. But those guys wouldn't have bothered with the ritual. They'd have dumped him in the river or a swamp. He was laid out beside the tomb of Marie Laveau. Somebody was sending a message."

"What kind of message?" Morgan asked.

"It was a warning. But I have no idea for who, or against what."

"Can you think of anything else we need to know?" Reid finished.

The man shrugged and shook his head. "Sorry, that's all I have. It was a long time ago and a lot's happened since then."

Reid thanked him and Deputy Delong was excused. Next up was Deputy Walters, and Reid called him in.

"Thank you for speaking with us, Deputy. How long have you been with the department?"

"A little over seven years."

"And, do you recall anything about the Tom Brown murder investigation?"

Walters gave them the same information that Delong had, but added that he had been one of the men sent to pick up the body.

Morgan took up the questioning.

"So, you actually saw the body?"

"I sure did. It was awful. He'd been gutted and his throat was slashed, and he had marks on his forehead. His eyes were open, it was like he was staring at us when we got there."

"Sherriff Dee said it was difficult to get anyone to go out there to pick him up."

"Yeah."

"Why was that?"

The younger deputy looked uncomfortable. "Look, you guys from outside--you don't understand. Things go on around here that don't make sense unless you know--well, unless you can read the signs."

"Can you read the signs, Deputy Walters?" Morgan asked.

He shrugged. "No, but--ok, now, I'm not ignorant, and I'm not crazy. But I do know some things. My grandma told me all about that voodoo stuff. It's real. It's real, and you stay away from it unless you know what you're doing. Going to pick up a dead body's no big deal. Picking up one that's been hexed, that's different."

"Hexed?"

"Yeah, put a curse on. It's like, bad mojo, bad luck. You don't want to come in contact with it in case some of it rubs off on you."

Both Reid and Morgan were silent for a moment. Then Reid asked, "Did anything happen to you? Bad luck, I mean?"

The man shifted in his seat and sighed. "No."

"That's good."

"I made sure it didn't."

Morgan and Reid exchanged glances.

"How...how did you do that?" Reid asked.

"I--look, I know what you're thinking. Ignorant, superstitious--it's not like that. I went to LSU, I have a degree! It's just--you can't be too careful, you know?" He nervously pulled at his tie, then spoke in a quiet voice. "I bought a charm."

"What's that you say?" Dee prodded.

He glared at her, then repeated in a louder voice, "I bought a charm."

"A charm?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah."

"Can you tell us more about that?" Reid prompted.

Deputy Walters sighed again. "I know what you're thinking, like, little voodoo dolls they sell in the souvenir shops or something. That stuff's for dumb tourists. When it's for real, it's more complicated than that."

"Tell us." Morgan leaned forward expectantly.

The man looked from Dee to Reid to Morgan and frowned. "Ok. But, I don't want anyone thinking I'm crazy, or stupid, or--"

"We don't. We're just trying to understand. Who knows what might be useful in trying to solve this case?" Reid said gently.

"Well, you make an appointment with a houdon. He listens to your situation and recommends something, gives you instructions. He sells you some stuff--in my case it was 'good luck, fast luck' powder. I had to go home and gather some fingernail clippings from myself and everyone in my house--I put them in a bowl and sprinkled the powder over them. I said some stuff--the priest told me what to say--then I set it on fire and let it burn out. That was it. It worked."

Reid wrinkled his brow. "How do you know?"

"I saw what happened to the other two guys."

Reid's frown deepened. "What?"

"One's in a wheelchair. The other one lost an arm. Don't tell me there's nothing to this voodoo stuff. I know better. Anything else you want to know?"

"No, thank you, you've been very helpful." Reid nodded as the deputy got up to leave. When he was out the door, Dee shut it and turned back to the two agents.

"Of course, what he didn't mention was that both those men were heavily involved in rescue efforts when Katrina hit. The first guy was in an accident with an ambulance, and the other fellow got crushed when he was helping to evacuate a family and he got caught up in flood waters. Stuff like that, and worse, happened to lots of people who didn't go around picking up hexed bodies."

"You don't believe in voodoo, do you, Dee?" Morgan asked.

"No, sir, I do not. It's a tool used to control vulnerable people, that's all. Don't underestimate it--I've seen what it can do. But it's not magic. It's just simple psychology."

Reid nodded. "Yes. But, that can be extremely powerful in the right hands, no matter what you call it."

Morgan stretched and stood up. "Well--sounds like it's time for us to go meet the proprietor of the voodoo shop. Any advice?"

"Try not to come off like hot-shot FBI agents. I've met Beau a few times, and he's not going to be impressed by your badges. Try to connect with him as a human being. He's a good guy, but he won't tell you one darn thing if he thinks you're trying to strong-arm him. Or, out-think him." She gave Reid a pointed stare and he pursed his lips.

"Well, thanks for your time. Come on, Reid, let's go," Morgan said.

They said their goodbyes and headed to the car.

***

The voodoo shop was housed in an old building with blacked-out windows. Morgan pulled a baseball cap out of his bag and put it on.

Reid raised an eyebrow. "What's that for?"

"We want to look like tourists, don't we?' Morgan carefully straightened the cap and headed toward the shop with Reid trailing behind him, trying to stifle a grin. "A mere baseball cap does not a tourist make," he whispered as Morgan reached the door.

"Why don't you try being quiet?" Morgan responded.

The pair entered the dark shop. There were a few lamps illuminating the corners and the front counter, and several candles burned on high shelves. There was a smell of incense and food cooking and something else indefinable that Reid assumed was some sort of herb. They had no trouble looking like tourists as they gazed around the strange room; there were folk art pieces hung on the walls, and shelves of books for sale. Decor included alligator skulls, snakes and insects in jars, and what looked to be an authentic human skull on a shelf behind the cash register. There were display cases with small jars, vials and powder packets of various colors with labels describing their contents.

Reid immediately became immersed in a book. Morgan headed to the desk, where a young man with dreadlocks, light brown skin and gold-colored eyes sat listening to headphones, bobbing his head to the music. He glanced up when Morgan approached and a slow smile came to his lips as he looked him up and down.

"May I help you?" he asked with a light Jamaican accent.

"Uh--yeah. I don't know anything about this voodoo stuff, but I'm curious--does it really work?"

The man pushed his headphones down to his neck and stood up. He was tall and gangly--_like Reid_, Morgan thought--and he reached behind him to a shelf and pulled down a small handmade rag doll.

"Look at this. You see? This represents my lover. This morning, he was very mean to me. So now, I shall pay him back." He closed his eyes and murmured something then slowly bent the doll's left leg backward. He smiled. "Now, he has a terrible leg cramp. I'll hear all about it tonight. I'll be...very sympathetic."

Morgan stared at him. "Wow. That's...amazing."

The man nodded. "You don't believe. That's all right. But, I sense that you are looking for something." He lowered his voice and leaned forward. "What about your boyfriend, there? Would you like to win his love?"

"My..._boyfriend? _Now, look here, he's not--I mean, we're not--"

"Oh, dear, it's early between you two, isn't it? You're not ready. But, you will be. Here, this--" The man reached into the display case and brought out a small vial of clear liquid. "Put a drop--just one drop--on his pillow each night before you make love. He will think of you all the next day, and never look at another man." The gold eyes held a merry, teasing quality, and Morgan fought the urge to punch him in the face.

"Listen, I'm not--"

The man made little effort to hide a smile, and held up one hand defensively. "Oh, my goodness. Yes, yes, I understand. My mistake." He put the vial back in the case. "Perhaps you would prefer a few souvenirs, then? For your many, ah, girlfriends?" He bubbled over with laughter as he strode to a display rack and picked out a few "naughty" postcards with naked women on them and handed them to Morgan. Morgan glanced at them and rolled his eyes, but took out his wallet and handed a few bills to the man.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"I am Leon."

"Ok, Leon. Thanks. Now, a friend of mine told me to ask for someone named Beau--is he here?"

"Beau is always here." He made no effort to offer additional help.

"Could I speak to him?"

"He'll show up eventually. Make yourself at home." Leon sat down and put his headphones back on his ears, clearly having lost interest in baiting Morgan, and Morgan sighed as he turned to speak to Reid.

But, Reid was gone.


	9. Beau

**A/N: Augghhh! So sorry to take so long to update, I just haven't had a chance to sit down and think. Hopefully, things will calm down soon... **

**Let me know what you think!**

**Seds**

*********

Inside the voodoo shop, Reid perused the bookshelves while Morgan spoke with the man at the desk. A hardback with a lurid cover titled "Voodoo in New Orleans" attracted him and he was idly flipping through the pages when he heard Morgan's voice behind him, tight and raised in consternation.

"..._boyfriend!_ He's not my--" Reid glanced behind him. He sighed and put the book back on the shelf. It hurt, hearing Morgan's tone, but he didn't blame him. He'd have done the same thing, probably, at this point. Their "relationship," or whatever it was, consisted of nothing but a long period of anguished attraction, topped off by a couple of rounds of mind-blowing sex. Sex that would forever be the standard by which he'd judge future encounters--assuming he'd ever get the opportunity to have another one.

And, that was it. That was all. He was a son, a friend, an FBI profiler, and now the casual sex partner of a coworker. Maybe that was all that he would ever be--to anyone.

Certainly, that might be all he would ever be to Morgan, he understood that. It wouldn't surprise him if Morgan decided that getting further enmeshed with him was risky on a number of levels and that he'd break it off before they even went home. Or, to find that he'd been nothing but an amusing diversion for Morgan all along, and that he'd quickly lose interest and move on to new challenges. Reid had observed that behavior many times--Morgan the Pursuer, Morgan the Conqueror, Morgan the Not-Answering-His-Phone.

Reid strolled from one display to the other, keeping one ear on the conversation at the desk, too engrossed in his thoughts to note that the black curtain that divided the front room from the back of the building had an "Employees Only" sign next to it. He stepped through it and wandered down a long hallway lined with photographs and oil paintings. Near the end, a large portrait of an imposing-looking woman caught his attention. It struck a chord in his memory and he walked forward a few paces to see it better.

A small metal plate identified the woman as "Marie Laveau, Queen of Voodoo." He remembered having seen that same image in the book out front--this appeared to be the original. He studied it. Her eyes compelled him to stare at them, and a weird feeling came over him. He frowned in irritation; surely he was no longer susceptible to such triggers after all these years with the BAU. He forced himself to turn away and looked at another image, a large black and white photograph of a group of people, all dressed in white filmy gowns, except for one tall man at the center. He was bare-chested and wearing some sort of headdress, holding up a dead, bloody chicken and glowering at the camera. The hand-lettered caption was simply a date, "1936."

There were more portraits, more group photos, and Reid noted that there were doors on either side of the hallway. The smell of garlic and onions cooking became stronger. A door on his left creaked open by itself. He glanced inside; it was lit more brightly than the anteroom, and he called "Hello?" as he poked his head in.

A huge stuffed grizzly bear, mounted upright with front paws outstretched and mouth open to reveal long sharp teeth was in the left corner. Reid blinked. He entered a few more steps and took in the richness of the room--layer upon layer of books and papers, knick-knacks and primitive artwork filled rows of shelves and lay stacked on every surface. Apart from some habitat-like trails, much of the floor space was covered with furniture--a large mahogany desk, numerous chairs and small end tables. The walls were a cacophony of pictures, art, and woven hangings. There was a musty smell, undercut by that strange herbal scent he had noticed earlier.

Reid moved closer to the desk and suddenly a metallic laugh rang out, followed by a slow, stilted voice. "Don't believe a single thing that you see! Not a single thing!" The words emanated from a creepy life-sized mechanical clown posed in the right-hand corner of the room. Reid's heart was pumping rapidly and he had his hand on his gun when a strong hand gripped his shoulder from behind.

"Can I help you with something?" a deep, Haitian-accented voice asked. Reid slowly turned to look at a very tall man. He had perfectly smooth, deep dark skin, laughing black eyes, and shoulders wide enough to fill a doorway. He must have been at least six foot seven. Reid followed the line from his eye level to the top of the man's head--bald, but sporting an old-fashioned top hat, making him even more imposing.

"I--I'm sorry, I accidentally wandered back here, I should go," Reid stammered. The man smiled, revealing two gold teeth.

"That's all right, we have tourists getting lost back here all the time. But, it's not often that one turns out to be such an attractive young man." The grin had deepened, and the man made no attempt to hide his appreciation of Reid's skinny body as he looked him up and down like a cat appraising a cornered mouse. Reid felt a shiver of excitement run through him. He wasn't used to being ogled like this.

"Oh, well, I really am sorry--I'll just get out of your way." Reid attempted to back up enough to make his way around the large figure in front of him, but he stumbled over the bric-a-brac and almost fell. The man laughed as he caught him easily in one hand and pulled him upright, almost into his arms.

"Now, now, don't be in such a hurry! My goodness, you are beautiful--tell me, are you with that handsome fellow in the front room?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, we're--"

"Ah. I see. A shame." The man smiled wistfully and shook his head. "The good ones are always taken, aren't they?"

"What? Oh! No, I mean, I'm just--we're just--"

The man still had Reid in his grip when a voice in the hallway barked "Reid! Where the hell are you?"

"In here," Reid called. He was annoyed to find that his voice was shaky.

Morgan strode through the doorway and stared at them. A pang of anguish hit his gut as he saw Reid being almost cradled in the big man's embrace. Reid hastily stepped back and the other man reluctantly let him go.

"What's going on here?" Morgan asked.

"I almost fell. That's all," Reid responded.

"Yes, the young man was understandably startled by my watch-bear, Leroy," the big man said with a chuckle.

"Really. That figures--I turn my back for one minute and he nearly gets hurt. I shouldn't let him out of my sight, apparently." Morgan shot a frown at Reid. He didn't want to admit it, but there had been a brief moment of panic when he looked around and couldn't find him.

"No, indeed. If I had such a lovely boy at my side, I'd never let him get away from me." The deep rich voice had a taunting lilt to it and Morgan turned his frown to him.

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind, my apologies--I'm being a terrible host. Were you gentlemen looking for something in particular? Mojo bags? Good luck powder? Protection spells, good health retrieval--revenge, perhaps?"

Both agents stared at the man, and Morgan then cast a sideways glance at Reid.

"No, no, actually, we just--we're here to see someone name Beau. A lady named Rose gave me his name," Morgan explained.

The man raised his eyebrows. "Rose? Mm. Well, I am Beauregard Devereux. How can I help you?"

Morgan continued. "I'm interested in this voodoo business and just wondered if I could ask you some questions."

A slight chill seemed to come over Beau. "I am always willing to cooperate with law enforcement."

"Law enforcement?"

"You fellows are cops, aren't you?"

Reid brightened. "I look like a cop?" he asked hopefully.

"No, dear, but he does. And, I don't imagine you'd be carrying, if left to your own devices." Beau pointed at the gun hidden under Reid's jacket. "I was afraid poor Roscoe, there, was about to be silenced forever." He indicated the mechanical clown, and Reid looked embarrassed. Morgan sighed. So much for being under cover.

"I'm Special Agent Derek Morgan and this is Dr. Spencer Reid. We're from the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI." Morgan pulled out his badge and let the man examine it.

"Behavioral Analysis? Hmm. What does that mean?" The calm face had taken on a curious expression.

"We're investigating a series of murders and we'd like to ask you about Tom Brown, and his nephew, Eldon." Morgan spoke authoritatively, but respectfully.

Beau's eyebrows shot up and he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Names I have, thankfully, not had to utter for a long time. What do you want to know?"

"The murders took place in Houston, and are very similar to some that happened here prior to Tom Brown's own murder. We know you were interviewed about that, but you offered very little information. And, now, we have reason to believe Eldon might have been involved. Do you know him? Did you know Tom?" Morgan asked.

Beau stared at the floor for a long moment, then looked up. His face was blank, but his eyes were intense. "Yes. Tom was a long-time customer. Of course, you already know that. Eldon was his, how do you say, protege, although not a very good one. He was--a dreadful little punk. I thought he was dead. Too bad if he's not."

"Do you think he had anything to do with those local murders--or with his uncle's?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. Tom was a bad man, he made many enemies, and there were plenty of people who would have been happy to see him dead. Eldon followed in his footsteps, but worse."

"Why did you think he was dead?" Reid asked.

"No one had heard from him since the disaster. I had great hopes that he was washed away with the rest of the debris."

Reid reached into his messenger bag and pulled out the case file. He flipped through and found the driver's license photo of the last victim. He turned it to face Beau and asked, "Do you know this woman? Marquetta Pierce?"

Beau stared at the photo for a long moment, then raised pain-filled eyes to Reid's. He spoke quietly. "Yes. I know her. What..." His voice faltered. "What has happened to her?"

"She was murdered, ritual-style, in Houston," Morgan said.

Beau closed his eyes. Suddenly, he slammed his fist onto the side of the desk, creating a reverberating blast of sound that cut through the peaceful room. "I knew it." He stood, went behind the desk and sank into the chair, rubbing his hand over his face. He opened a drawer and delved into it, coming out with an envelope full of photographs. He thumbed through them and took a few to show the agents.

Marquetta was in all of them, a pretty, laughing young woman with two small children, a girl and a boy, and a baby. In one, the girl was on her lap and Marquetta was smiling at her and pointing toward the camera. In another she had her arm around the boy, and he was making a face at the baby. Beau let them examine the pictures, then said quietly, "She was my sister."

"I'm so sorry," Reid said quickly. Morgan nodded. "Sorry for your loss."

Beau replaced the photographs and stood. "We begged her not to leave. We knew--we knew something bad would happen to her if she left home."

"Did she know Eldon Brown?" Reid asked.

"He was the father of her two older children."

"Was Brown still involved with her?"

"She left New Orleans to get away from him... Her baby--she had started a new life with another man. He disappeared, and then the hurricane hit. Our mother was taking care of the little one, and the house--they were lost. But, Marquetta was certain Eldon had something to do with it, that he'd murdered her boyfriend and was responsible for the death of our mother and her baby. He wanted revenge on her for leaving him and taking his children. She packed up and left town and, except for a few phone calls, I haven't heard from her since."

"When was the last time you heard from her?" Morgan asked,

"Months ago."

"Did she mention Eldon? Was she concerned that he would find her?"

"No. At the time, everything seemed to be going well. She was moving around a lot, though--I didn't have a good number to call her. I've been so worried..."

The man was clearly suffering from the shock of the bad news and both Morgan and Reid felt terrible. Neither had been prepared to deliver such information to a family member. Reid spoke gently.

"Mr. Devereux--we really are so very sorry. Is there anything you can think of that might help us find Eldon Brown? Anyone we should talk to?"

Beau shook his head without raising his eyes.

"If you think of anything, please contact us." Morgan gave him a card with his number on it. "And, we may need to talk with you again."

Beau nodded. The two agents turned to leave when they heard the deep voice rumble behind them. "Gentlemen, wait."

Beau again reached into his desk, then stood and walked over to Reid and Morgan. He took Morgan's hand and pressed something into it, then did the same with Reid. The men looked down and each found a small fat cloth pouch tied with red string.

"You are treading on dangerous ground. You will need something special to assure your safety. Please--keep these on your person at all times. It will help."

"What is it?" Reid asked.

"Some herbs, some powders. It is not the materials that are important. It is the meaning behind them. They have been blessed and good spirits will be with you. Please--I know you are skeptical, but trust me. This I know."

The men shook hands and Reid and Morgan left the shop, emerging into the bright sunlit day blinking as if they were coming out of a cave.

They walked silently, each immersed in his own thoughts. They headed for their car. They needed to touch base with the other team and decide what to do next.


	10. Rose

**A/N: My apologies for taking so long to update! Reviews are deeply appreciated, thanks for reading!**

**Seds**

*****

Morgan and Reid headed to the Sheriff's Department, which they were using as home base. They were both quiet for a couple of miles, each busy processing the information Beau Devereux had given them. Suddenly, Reid said, "Where do you think Beau knew Rose from?"

"Rose?"

"Yeah, you mentioned her and he got a kind of funny look on his face."

"That _is _interesting. Doesn't seem like he'd be one to make use of her services."

Reid didn't answer, but Morgan noted a smug little smile on his face. He frowned before continuing.

"I'll call her when we get to the office. And, speaking of Beau, what the hell was going on between you two, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what the hell, Reid? Now that I've broken you in, are you going to flirt like a little slut with every man that gives you the eye?"

A shocked expression came over Reid's face. "Broken me _in? _Slut? What the hell yourself, Morgan, what kind of thing is that to say? Yeah, obviously he was flirting with me--well, big deal. It was kind of nice to be appreciated for a change. But, I didn't respond, and I resent your implication very much. Anyway, what do you care what I do?" Reid's indignation had trailed off into a disgruntled mutter and he stared out the window, refusing to meet Morgan's glances.

Morgan banged the steering wheel in frustration. How had he gotten himself into this conversation? And, what _did _he care about what Reid did, where other men were concerned? It wasn't as if their night together had meant anything. He'd just done the kid a favor, taken him over the edge and helped him to see things as they really were. He knew how hard it was to confront one's sexuality after years of repression, and he was glad he could be there for him, but, that was that. That was all there was to it.

Well, that and the fact that the kid had been one hell of a good fuck, once he got used to the idea.

Oh, sure, he _liked _Reid, no question about that. He liked how funny he could be when he was flustered, how he reminded him of a kid in dress-up clothes when he was trying his hardest to be taken seriously. He liked the way he smiled, the sweetness coming through even when he was being a know-it-all little jerk, and how, no matter how awkward and uncertain he was in social situations, he always did his best to do the right thing because he genuinely cared about people. And, he liked it that he still had a pure soul even after everything he'd been through.

He liked how he carried on--did his job and took care of business, even when he was hurting. He liked that there was a toughness in him that you didn't see right away, a fearlessness, and a devotion to his work, to his team, and to his mom that almost broke Morgan's heart.

He liked the way he felt in his arms. He liked the way he smelled, and the way his hair fell in his face. The shy kisses and uncertain caresses, and the look in his eyes when Morgan was inside him. He liked falling asleep with him, and he liked waking up with him.

And, he liked the way Reid trusted him. Trusted him with his safety, with his life, and now, with his body. It was a great gift, he knew that, and here he was giving the kid a hard time. He looked over at him again, and Reid was staring straight ahead, arms clasped across his chest, those pretty lips clamped together in a hard line of resentment.

He was fucking adorable.

Morgan thought of the moment of panic he'd had when he couldn't find Reid back at the voodoo shop, and of the relief that had washed over him when he heard his voice. He thought of how good it was to see his face when he walked into the room, even if Reid did look like he was about to be ravished by the big man. It occurred to him that his anger was more a result of the fear and helplessness he'd felt rather than actual jealousy. Although, he had to admit--there was that, too.

Suddenly, Morgan smiled. Damn it, this was real. Spencer was real, what was happening between them was real, and he didn't want to mess it up. For the first time in a long time he was feeling a little bit excited, a little bit hopeful about the future. About not being doomed to endless starts and stops with people he liked but didn't love, people who didn't understand him or his job or what it meant to him.

And, if he could shut down the demons in his mind for one damn minute and think it through, he knew he'd see that the reason for that hope was sitting right there beside him.

He didn't know what the hell he was doing, but somehow, he had to make this right. Had to put things on the right path, even if he wasn't sure where it was leading them. He took a deep breath, and said what needed to be said.

"Spencer--I'm sorry."

Reid looked at him, surprised. "You are?"

"Yeah. I know you weren't flirting back there. I just--I saw the way that guy was looking at you, like he was going to have you for breakfast, and I--it made me mad, that's all. I--I just don't want other men looking at you like that." He glanced over at Reid and was relieved to see that the hurt had drained out of his face and he was now smiling. "And, you freaked me out so bad when I couldn't find you--I didn't know where you were, and I--"

"I know. It's ok, Derek. I'm sorry, too. I--I guess I don't really know... I don't really know what we're doing, you know? I don't know what you want from me, or--"

"Me either. Feels like we're heading into a foreign country, and I don't know the language. But, I'm going to learn. And, I guess--maybe we're going to learn together, right?"

Reid's smile broadened and he nodded. "I'd like that. Maybe I can help you, I'm pretty good with languages."

"Yeah, you're definitely a quick study." He pulled into the Sheriff's Department parking lot and turned off the engine, then put his hand on Reid's.

"Give me some time, Spencer. I have to figure things out, and I bet you do, too. Let's give each other some room to make mistakes, ok?"

Reid nodded. "I can do that." He squeezed Morgan's hand and they emerged from the car.

As they headed to the entrance, a thought occurred to Morgan. "So, you think I don't appreciate you?" he demanded.

"I don't know, all you ever do is tease me and make fun of me. I hardly call that being appreciated."

"Well, we haven't exactly been going out together or anything--"

"Doesn't mean you can't say something nice once in a while." Reid paused expectantly at the bottom of the stairs. Morgan stopped short.

"Oh, I'm supposed to say something nice now, huh?"

"Wouldn't hurt."

"Ok, fine. You have a cute ass."

Reid knit his brows and frowned in thought before shrugging acceptance. "I was hoping for something a little classier and less focused on my anatomy, but it's a start." He headed up the stairs toward the entrance doors, then stopped again with his hand on the push bar and looked back at Morgan.

"You really like my ass?"

"You have no idea."

The pair grinned at each other for a moment before entering the building.

*****

Sheriff Dee was waiting for Morgan and Reid, and she chatted on the way to the office she had set up for them, then left them to their work.

Reid took a seat in front of the computer and scanner and began updating the file and Eldon Brown's criminal profile; Morgan got on the phone with the other team.

"JJ, I've got some info on Eldon Brown. He was the father of Marquetta Pierce's children; she left New Orleans to get away from him. I've got contact information for you on what's left of that family--there's an uncle and a grandmother. Will you see what you can do about getting her kids out of foster care?"

"Oh, wow, absolutely. This puts a new light on that murder, doesn't it? Hang on a sec, Rossi's on the other line..." Morgan waited while JJ took the other call. Reid watched Morgan's face as he continued the conversation--he could tell there was bad news.

"Ok, JJ, thanks." Morgan shot a grim look at Reid. "They have another body. This time, they were able to ID the victim immediately. He was a mid-level drug dealer named Desmond Williams. They've managed to get a couple of his cohorts in custody and are interviewing them--we may actually get some info on Eldon Brown's whereabouts."

"That would be good. Too bad someone else had to die for that to happen."

"Yeah. I'm going to call Rose, now." Morgan fished the card with her number out of his wallet and dialed his cell. He expected an answering machine, but to his surprise, Rose herself answered.

"Rose here."

"Rose? I don't know if you remember me, we met at the bed and breakfast yesterday, and--"

"Of course I remember you. You were the handsome fellow whose room was given away."

"Uh, yes, that's right. You may also recall that I was asking about voodoo. I was wondering if my friend and I could meet you somewhere for coffee--I have more questions for you."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then Rose said, "I really don't have any more information about such things--I gave you a name. Did you meet Beau?"

"Yes, ma'am, I did, and now I just have more questions. I know this sounds strange, but I'd like to talk with you again. You'd really be helping me out."

"Dear, I'd love to help you out, but what I'd like to do for you can't be done in a coffee shop."

Morgan chuckled. "Ah, well, I'm really just looking for conversation. Please, can't we meet? It wouldn't take much time. Listen, let me buy you lunch."

Rose sighed. "You're an odd one. What's your name?"

"Derek."

"All right, Derek. I'll meet you at Miller's, on the corner of Garden and Avenue A, in an hour. You're lucky I'm hungry."

"Yes, ma'am."

He told Reid the plan, and they headed out.

*****

Rose was already seated at the restaurant and had a glass of wine in her hand. She raised her glass in greeting as the men sat down. Morgan took out his badge.

"Ma'am, I'm Special Agent Derek Morgan, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid. We're with the FBI, and we'd like to ask you some questions."

Rose's eyes narrowed and she glanced around suspiciously.

"Why, you rat bastard. I should have known you were a cop. Your little pal here threw me off. Damn it." Reid frowned at her. Morgan used his most soothing voice to respond.

"Now, Rose, you're not in any trouble. I just wanted to follow up on some things we discovered this morning regarding a case we're working on. I was afraid you wouldn't want to meet with us if you knew who we were."

"Well, duh."

"May I ask you some questions?"

"Oh, fine. Go ahead."

"How do you know Beauregard Devereux?"

"Everyone knows Beau."

"Ok, but are you friends, or--"

"He helps me. I'm in a dangerous line of work, you know? A girl needs all the help she can get. I go to him for readings and things."

"Readings?"

"You know, tarot cards, tea leaves, things like that. He gives me advice and suggestions."

"And, steers a few clients in your direction?"

"I'm not answering that."

Reid spoke up. "Please, Rose--we're not local law enforcement. We don't care how you earn a living, or what Beau does for you. We're trying to find a murderer."

Rose turned her gaze to him. "A murderer? Maybe you better tell me what this is really all about."

Morgan told her about the murders in Houston which seemed related to the old case in New Orleans. "Do you know a man named Eldon Brown?"

Rose seemed to grow pale under her makeup. She took a sip of wine and looked from Reid to Morgan and back again. "No."

Morgan leaned forward. "Now, that was not convincing. I may be wrong, but I assume you'd prefer to give us whatever information you can here, out in the open, over lunch rather than down at the sheriff's office. It's funny how meetings like that become public knowledge so quickly--"

"Oh, don't try to intimidate me," Rose snapped. "All right. Yes, Eldon Brown used to go out with a friend of mine. He was a horrible, horrible person, selling drugs to kids, stealing from old ladies--his own grandmother!--beating people up at the drop of a hat. Whatever it is he's accused of, I'm sure he did it. Now, can I go?"

"Do you have any idea where he is?" Morgan asked.

"No."

Reid interjected. "Rose. We think he's responsible for the murder of his ex-girlfriend, and--"

"Marquetta? Marquetta's dead?" Rose's face seemed to crumble as they watched, and she dug in her handbag for a tissue.

"Was she the friend you were referring to?" Morgan asked.

"Yes--God, yes, she was a good friend of mine. She's the one that introduced me to Beau. She was a lovely person, and that bastard made her life a living hell. Oh, fuck, I can't believe he found her--"

"You know where she went?"

"I helped her. I sent her to stay with a friend of mine in Houston."

"We'll need that name, address and phone number."

"Sure, ok." She jotted the information on a napkin and handed it to Morgan. He in turn gave her a card.

"Please call if you think of anything that could help us track him down."

"I will. But, you need to know--I've done everything I could to stay away from Eldon Brown. I honestly don't know anything."

"Ok. Well, thank you." Morgan put some money on the table, then he and Reid stood and left the restaurant. Rose brought out her cell phone and called Beau.


	11. Plane Reservations

**A/N: **Hello! Some m/m sex in this one, so be warned. Pleeeeeze review!

*****

Reid and Morgan returned to their makeshift office at the Sheriff's Department and Morgan got on the phone to Garcia.

"Undisputed Ruler of the Information Highway, at your service. What's going on, sugar-lips?" Garcia twisted a strand of blonde hair around her favorite pen and smiled, waiting for Morgan's rich voice to come across the line. She heard an amused snort.

"Hey, baby girl. I've got a name, an address and a phone number for you--I need any and all information on this person's current whereabouts--workplace, car make, everything."

"Name, address _and_ phone number? Gosh, I think I'll take a little nap now--this is too easy."

"Well, they can't all be impossible challenges, can they?"

"I love it when you go easy on me. Makes the hard stuff that much better."

Morgan grinned and gave her the information. After only a few seconds, Garcia began reading a series of facts to him. Maria Lopez was a Houston resident with a job, a house, two kids and a car, and Garcia provided the specifics on all of them. Morgan thanked her and immediately called Hotch.

"Hotch here."

"Hey, it's Morgan. Listen, Marquetta Pierce's last known residence was at the home of a woman named Maria Lopez--she needs to be interviewed and should probably be given police protection, since she was instrumental in helping Marquetta get away from Eldon Brown. Garcia's got all the info."

"Right. I'll take care of that. I want you and Reid to head to Houston. You can do the interview, and I need Reid to go over Brown's profile with me. We're close, but haven't been able to pinpoint his location yet. I need his eyes to figure out what I've missed."

"Will do. Later." Morgan hung up and turned to Reid. "Get us on a plane to Houston, kid."

Reid didn't allow his face to reflect the dismay he felt at the thought of leaving New Orleans. There was something special about the town and he couldn't help but fear that the tender bud of his new relationship with Morgan would be severely damaged if they left so quickly. But, there was nothing he could do about it.

"I'll make the arrangements." Reid went to the airline site and made reservations for late that evening, giving them enough time to wrap things up with Dee, grab a meal, pack and check out of their room, and then return the rental car. He sighed as he clicked the "Make Reservation" button, then looked at Morgan. "All set."

"Good. Let's update Dee and get moving."

"Ok."

They went over the plan with Dee and told her goodbye. Then they left the station and stopped for a late lunch at a small diner.

Morgan talked about the case and Reid nodded absently, barely saying a word. Morgan stopped in mid-sentence and stared at his partner.

"Reid? You ok?"

Reid looked up. "Yeah. Why?"

"You're awfully quiet. You worried about something?"

"N-no, not really."

Morgan frowned.

"Not really? Come on, tell me what you're thinking."

"Nothing. Look, never mind, I'm just tired."

"No, what did you mean?"

Reid gave Morgan a hopeless look, then began pushing his food around on his plate with a fork.

"I--I guess I'm just afraid that what's happened between us will... That it's because we're here in this city, and once we go home it'll..." Reid bit his lip and looked up at Morgan again.

Morgan put down his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. He tried not to smile at Reid's unneeded concern, and swallowed before leaning forward and looking into the worried brown eyes. "You think once we leave New Orleans, I won't want to be with you anymore?"

Reid nodded slowly and dropped his gaze. Morgan reached out and tilted up his chin.

"And here I thought you were a genius." Morgan's voice was soft and he could no longer stifle a smile. "Didn't I tell you we were starting a journey together?" Reid gave him a small smile in return.

"I know. It's just... I have a hard time with relationships. I'm afraid this--what we've started--it'll all go away when we're back in our old lives, and--"

Morgan wanted to pull him into his arms and hug him for all he was worth.

"Spencer--all I know is that I can't wait for all the first times we have ahead of us. The first time you stay over at my place. The first time I stay over at yours. The first time we make dinner together, do laundry together--I can't wait. Do you understand? New Orleans is a magical city, and I'll never forget what happened here, but it's just the beginning. Ok?"

Reid's face relaxed as his expression turned to one of relief. "Ok, Derek. I'm sorry. I just--"

"I know. You've been through a lot--we both have. But, I think things are going to be a lot better now. A whole lot better."

They smiled at each other and returned to their meal and discussing the case.

*****

The pair returned to their room at the bed and breakfast, immediately grabbed their bags and began to pack. Reid was carefully separating his clean clothes from dirty ones when he felt Morgan slip his arms around his waist from behind. Strong hands slowly moved across his stomach and up to his chest, where his fingertips brushed Reid's nipples. The hands moved lower and lower until Morgan was giving the front of Reid's trousers a thorough investigation. He felt Reid getting hard and he made a sound of approval.

"Mmm...baby boy."

"Morgan? I thought we were packing up to leave." Indulgently, Reid reached back to caress Morgan's face, which was now buried in his neck.

"Seems a shame to run off without giving this tiny bed one more work-out..."

A broad grin stole across Reid's face. "Well, it does. It certainly does." He turned and wrapped his arms around Morgan and they kissed, warm slick lips sliding across one another, eager tongues dipping into each other's mouths. They hastily undressed and Morgan gently prepared his lover for sex.

"Turn over, baby."

"Oh, uh--really?" Reid gave Morgan a puzzled look.

"Yeah, there's more than one way to, uh, you know--"

"Of course, I know that. I just--I haven't exactly gotten tired of doing it the other way, you know?"

Morgan snickered. "I haven't either, but I know you, you're a creature of habit. Don't want you to get set in your ways just yet."

Reid nodded. "Good point."

Morgan kissed him again then murmured in his ear, "It's ok. Trust me. I don't think you'll be disappointed."

"Well--ok, Derek." Reid flipped over on his stomach and Morgan nuzzled him between his shoulder blades, then pulled the long strands of brown hair away from his neck and proceeded to bite him teasingly.

"Ow! Hey, what the heck--"

"Like that?" Morgan noticed the shiver that ran through Reid's body in spite of his protest.

"Um... Yeah, now that you mention it. Do it again!"

Morgan gave a low laugh and complied, then ran his hand down Reid's back and over his bare bottom. He gave each firm cheek a squeeze and whispered, "Put that little butt up in the air for me." Reid scrambled into the desired position and felt Morgan shift his weight as he knelt behind him. Morgan put on a condom, applied some lubricant, and entered him quickly.

"Oh--" Reid gasped. He thought he knew what to expect, but being taken from a different angle felt incredibly good. Morgan began thrusting into him with deep, hard strokes and Reid found himself crying out with satisfaction. Morgan grasped his hipbones in a powerful hold, and groaned and muttered an obscenity now and again as he settled into a pleasurable rhythm. For Reid, the intensity was so overwhelming, he could think of nothing but the delicious electrical impulses created as Morgan's member caressed his prostate again and again. He eagerly pushed his hips up and back to make each thrust as deep and powerful as possible.

Morgan was lost. Any thought of being gentle with his lover had completely left his brain. For him, there was only the pleasure of his lover, his warmth, and his body's fluid responses to his own movements that propelled him to go faster, deeper, harder. He barely noticed when Reid cried out in orgasm, and he didn't miss a beat as he rocked into him, working toward his own release. When it came, he gave an animalistic grunt followed by a loud, triumphant groan. Exhausted, he pulled out and rolled onto his back. Reid collapsed next to him, face-down. For the next several minutes, they didn't say a word and all they could hear was their own rapid breathing.

Finally, Reid gingerly turned over onto his back.

"You know, I think you dislocated something in my spine."

Morgan managed a weak chuckle. "I didn't do myself any favors either, kid. Damn, what are you doing to me?"

They looked at each other with sheepish expressions, then both burst out laughing. Morgan reached for him and they wrapped their arms around each other, snuggling together as if they didn't have a plane to catch. They might have fallen asleep if Morgan's cell phone hadn't gone off. He sighed and scrambled to find his discarded pants, which had been dropped on Reid's side of the bed. He leaned over the edge, squashing the slighter agent in the process.

"Hey! Damn it, Morgan, that's my spleen you're shredding--" Reid was amazed at how many ways there were to get hurt in bed. At least, in bed with Derek Morgan. He gave Morgan a shove back to his own side of the bed as he came back up, pants in hand.

"Sorry, sorry." He retrieved his phone and clicked it to "talk." It was the Sheriff's Department number. "Agent Morgan here."

"Derek? This is Dee. We've got a-- situation."

"What's wrong?"

"I need you and Agent Reid to meet me out at St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 asap. There's been a murder--and the body was left on Marie Laveau's grave. And, it was done ritualistically."

"Don't let anybody touch anything. We'll be right there." He snapped the phone shut and looked at Reid.

"Get your clothes on and cancel the plane. We've got a murder to investigate."

Reid frowned, but swung long legs to the floor and began gathering his clothes. He raised an eyebrow mischievously at Morgan and said, "Do you think Sheriff Dee will notice that I can barely walk?"

"I'm sure she already noticed that you wince when you sit down. What must she think of the FBI?"

Reid grinned and pulled up the internet on his phone to cancel their plane reservations. When they were both dressed, they headed out and drove to the cemetery.


	12. Finale

**A/N:** This is the last chapter!! Thank you so much for reading, and please, leave a review if you've enjoyed the story. That's what makes this fun!

******

Reid and Morgan were met by Sheriff Dee at the gate of the aged St. Louis Cemetery No.1 and led in on foot._ This place could indeed be called a city of the dead_, Reid thought. Tombs built centuries ago, intended to house generation after generation of a family line, were packed close together and divided by walking paths. Some were well-cared for, others near dilapidation. Flowers and mementos were heaped on some, others were bare of any adornment.

Leaving the bustle of the late afternoon New Orleans streets, the atmosphere in the cemetery felt still and quiet. The two agents were fully alert, watching for signs of anything that might be related to the case. They came upon the crime scene, delineated by yellow tape. Morgan took the lead and found the officer in charge.

"Do we have an ID?"

"No. Victim's female, no driver's license, nothing."

"Time of death?"

"The ME thinks it was no more than a couple of hours ago, but of course he'll need to do an autopsy to be sure."

"Who found her?"

"Tourist group. They'll never forget New Orleans."

"Mm. COD?"

"Strangulation; she was beaten pretty severely first, though. Her throat was cut, but that was post-mortem."

"And, is there a mark in ash drawn on her forehead?"

"Yup."

"Ok. Reid, let's take a look," he said as he motioned to his partner. They walked to the tomb of Marie Laveau and stared down at the body. The woman was fully clothed, lying brokenly on the grass. She had facial cuts and swelling, but for Derek, the recognition was immediate.

"Oh, shit. That's Rose."

"Rose?" Dee asked from behind his shoulder.

"Yes," Reid affirmed. "She was a--call girl we were talking to. It turns out she helped Eldon Brown's ex escape to Houston."

Dee and Morgan both glanced at Reid, and Dee nodded. "So, there's a real good chance that he's in town and that he's responsible for doing this."

Both Reid and Morgan knelt next to the body and looked it over. Reid peered more closely at the woman's battered face.

"The blows to the face were vicious. Both she and Marquetta were beaten more severely than the male victims."

"It's personal with them," Morgan agreed. "So, he must have tracked Rose back here to the Quarter and attacked her shortly after she left our meeting. He probably followed her there and saw her talking to us."

Reid stood and looked around the tomb. There were the usual offerings to the departed voodoo queen--food, Mardi Gras beads, a half-empty bottle of wine. There were also a few small pouches, similar to the ones given to them by Beau, and Reid suddenly turned to Morgan and the officer in charge.

"Send officers to the voodoo shop on Rue Royal immediately--if Brown's come back to tend to unfinished business, there's a good chance he'll target Beauregard Devereux next. If he hasn't been there already."

The head officer got on his radio and Morgan said, "Let's go," to Reid and Dee, and the three headed back to her squad car.

******

Dee quickly drove them to Beau's place of business and they parked out of sight. They moved in silently, guns drawn. Morgan knelt by a window and peeked in, then straightened up and motioned to the other two to follow him to the door. He turned the handle and let the door swing open, positioning himself to the side in case someone was in hiding within. There was no movement, so they headed into the shop.

The place seemed deserted. They began moving around the room, then Reid said, "Morgan. Over here." Morgan joined him at the sales counter and looked where Reid pointed--Leon was lying still on the floor, blood covering his belly.

"Damn," whispered Dee. She holstered her gun and knelt to check for a pulse, while Morgan moved toward the door to the rest of the old building.

"Derek!" hissed Reid. "You don't have a vest--"

Morgan held up his hand to quiet him, and led the way with his gun in his hand. Once they were in the hallway, they could hear a deep voice coming from upstairs, then another unfamiliar one answering. Dee slipped outside to meet her officers and give them directions to surround the area, and Reid followed Morgan up the stairs.

At the landing, there were three rooms with closed doors, and the agents discerned the one where the two men were speaking. The deep voice had taken on a chanting quality, and they could make out words being repeated over and over in a sing-song manner.

Morgan and Reid positioned themselves on either side of the door, and Morgan called out "Whoever's in there, open the door, _now. _FBI."

A bullet came whizzing through the old oak door, followed by two more. Morgan carefully twisted the knob and pushed the door open with his foot. The room was a brightly lit kitchen, and they could see Beau--face bloodied, tied to a chair. A stranger was standing before him with a knife in his belt and a gun in his hand. Beau's face was streaked with blood, and he had a swollen eye and a cut on his mouth, but he grinned slightly.

Morgan spoke gruffly but quietly. "Put the weapons down. Put them down, don't try anything cute. Put them down. _Now." _

The man glanced from Morgan to Reid, and realized if he got one, the other would shoot him dead before he could fire again. He threw the gun down first, then the knife.

"Good. Now, on your knees. Put your hands behind your head, nice and slow."

The man slowly raised his hands and lowered himself as if to kneel, but before Morgan took a step toward him, he lithely rolled to the side, got behind Beau and viciously shoved the chair, propelling the big man forward into their path. He sprung to his feet, turned and threw himself through the closed window, landing on his feet, only to be tackled by two large New Orleans police officers, who then promptly handcuffed him.

Reid found a kitchen knife and cut the bindings that held the fallen Beau to the chair and Morgan watched the take-down from the window, making sure that the man was captured, subdued and placed in a police car before turning back. Dee ran in just as Reid was checking Beau for injuries.

"Everyone ok?" she asked.

"I think so. Are you all right?" Reid asked Beau.

"Yes, yes, my angel, I'm perfectly all right. Damn bastard caught me from behind. Hit me over the head with my own sculpture." A heavy bronze statue of a fertility goddess lay on the floor nearby. "Is Leon all right?"

"He's pretty badly injured--stab wound to the abdomen--but the ambulance just pulled up, and I think he'll be ok," Dee said.

"What about you? Is it just your head that's injured?" Reid asked.

"I-I think so. I'm still a bit dizzy. After he hit me, I was out for a few minutes and when I came to, I was on the floor. He had a gun. He made me sit in the chair and he tied me up, then he started beating me. He told me I was responsible for all his bad luck with my sister--he told me he knew I had cast a spell making people he trusted betray him. He said he would kill me, but he wanted to make me suffer first. That was when you came in--you gorgeous boy." Beau beamed at Reid through the blood that had formed sticky trickles over the side of his face.

Reid smiled shyly. "Well--it was good timing, I guess."

"Oh, it was more than that! The spirits were guiding you. They protected me, and you, too. Oh, and... him," he said as an afterthought, tilting his head toward Morgan. "I knew they would, I wasn't worried at all."

Morgan came around to look at the injured man. He holstered his gun and shook his head.

"You really think there was something supernatural about all this?"

Beau gave a broad smile. "What can I tell you? I called upon my guardian angel, and he materialized in the form of this beautiful young warrior." He gave Reid a look that made the agent feel as if he didn't have very many clothes on, but Beau's words made him brighten.

"Warrior?" Reid said, happily. No one had ever called him that before.

_"Warrior?"_ Morgan looked insulted. "Look, he's the genius in this outfit, but I--"

"Every warrior needs a second." Beau shrugged dismissively.

Morgan rolled his eyes and said, "Look, we're going to have to get a statement from you. Can you please identify the man that attacked you?"

"Oh, yes. That was the devil in the flesh, and his name is Eldon Brown."

"We'll get a confirmation on that when we get him downtown," Dee interjected. "How is this going to be handled? Will the FBI take custody or what?"

"I'm going to talk to my supervisor in just a minute, we'll get it all figured out," Morgan assured her. He looked at Reid. "Do you want to tell him about--you know?"

"Huh?"

_"Rose."_

"Oh! Me?" Reid frowned.

"I think he'd take it better coming from you."

Reid nodded, then turned back to the big man. He was sitting at the table, dabbing at the blood with a dish towel.

"Mr. Devereux, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your friend Rose--"

"She's dead, isn't she?" Beau asked softly.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

Beau nodded and pursed his lips. "I warned her to stay away. This town--there's so much darkness here. But, she wouldn't listen. There was... nothing I could do for her."

He sighed, then looked at Reid. "I suppose you'll be leaving town now."

"Yes."

"A shame. Well--I wish you and your, ah, partner the best of luck. But--" He grinned and leaned closer to Reid. "...if you ever change your mind, you come see me. I'll give you a 'get lost' potion that will fix everything up just fine. Then--I'll cook you a dinner that'll make you want to slap your mama." A deep, rolling laugh came out of his throat and Reid smiled uncertainly.

"Well--I don't know what that means, exactly, but I'll keep it in mind. Uh, thanks."

"Thank you, Agent Reid."

Two paramedics came in to usher Beau downstairs to be taken to the hospital to have his injuries properly cared for, and Dee, Morgan and Reid told him goodbye.

Beau paused in front of Morgan and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Take good care of him, Agent Morgan. If I ever hear you hurt him, I'll put a spell on you that will most definitely cause interference in your enjoyment of the carnal pleasures. Understand me?"

"I--" Morgan flashed an angry grimace at the big man, but after a moment, reluctantly nodded. "You don't have to worry. Last thing I ever want to do is hurt him."

"Oh, if you do, it will be!" Beau chuckled and raised an eyebrow devilishly as the paramedics led him away.

"What was all that about?" Reid asked, bewildered.

"Just some fatherly advice." The room was finally empty except for the two of them, and Morgan put an arm around Reid's shoulders. "Hey, thanks for backing me up, by the way."

"It's my job."

"That the only reason?"

Reid grinned. "No. I didn't want to have to fill out all that paperwork by myself."

"Nice. You know, Beau told me to take care of you, but he doesn't really know just how annoying you can be."

"I can take care of myself."

"That's what I'm afraid of. Talk about paperwork..."

The two agents grinned at each other and headed out of the building. There were phone calls to make, clothes to be packed, and a plane to catch.

And, they both secretly hoped there would be time to give that tiny bed one more good workout.

The End.


End file.
